It Wasn't You
by losingmymindtonight
Summary: They grab Peter right out from under Tony's nose.
1. Act I

AN: Hey guys! This fic takes place in a world where the Avengers have all resolved Civil War and everyone lives happily ever after. Also, we're just assuming that the things Tony injected into his arms during Iron Man 3 don't work anymore or never existed or something. Why? Cause plot.

So… this fic is almost entirely written already. Which means that I know exactly where it's going. And it gets dark. And kinda fucked up. So, uh, be ready for that. I creeped myself out writing this, no joke. I've been working on it for weeks because I've been walking away from it for days on end just to detox. So, yeah.

BUT I'm also very proud of it? I have a lot of feelings.

Anyway: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy the deepest, darkest parts of my evil mind XD

WARNINGS: kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, endangerment and torture (?) of a minor, explicit language

* * *

They grab Peter right out from under Tony's nose.

He had taken the kid out for dinner. It was supposed to be a celebration of Peter making straight A's all semester. It was supposed to be _fun._ A moment between Tony and Peter, not Iron Man and Spider-Man. Something for the two of them to remember.

They were sitting in the corner of a chaotic buffet, eating greasy pizza off of a sticky table, when the gunshots started.

Tony lunged for the kid, pulling him underneath the table in a rush of adrenaline. He used an arm to cushion the Peter's head as they slammed into the crumb-ridden floor. Tony curled himself around the teenager, using his body as a human shield.

"What-" Peter gasped, weakly struggling underneath this mentor.

"I don't know, Peter. Now hush."

A voice, muffled slightly by what Tony assumed was a balaclava or ski mask, boomed across the restaurant.

"I want Tony Stark and the teenager with him to walk out here with their hands up."

Tony's heart stopped.

They wanted Peter.

"Stay here." He hissed, shifting off of the kid and letting himself, in a moment of weakness, brush a shaking hand against his lower back. Solid. Warm. _Alive._ "Do _not_ move. Do you understand?"

"But _Tony_ …"

Something in him flinched at the kid using his first name. He shoved it away for another time. "Shut up, kid. Everything is gonna be fine."

And then he stepped into the open.

Two men, decked out in bulletproof vests and ski masks, lunged forward and hauled him away from the table. One of them tore off his watch and bracelets that called the suit. _Shit._ There were about a dozen more armed men scattered around the room. Terrified people were huddling on the ground all around him, staring up at the billionaire with wide eyes. Mothers clung to their sobbing children.

Tony felt like an asshole. This was his fault.

"Where's the child?" A man, presumably their leader, snarled.

"You don't need him."

"Ah, but I'm afraid I do." The man cocked his head to the side. "Peter Parker! If you do not surrender in the next thirty seconds, I'll blow Tony Stark's brains out. Please comply. I would hate to make this messy with so many... _young eyes_ around."

Tony's heart dropped through the floor. Peter would never risk his mentor's life, even if he should.

Sure enough, the teenager stumbled out from under the table with his hands raised. He studiously avoided Tony's eyes.

"Hello, Mister Parker." The leader turned to his men. "Take the others and put them out on the street. We have all we need and I'd rather not risk any collateral damage."

Within minutes, the restaurant was empty except for Tony, Peter, and the masked men.

"Good. Now, continue as we planned."

Suddenly, six of the men broke away and headed straight for Peter. The one at the front ripped off his mask as he went. He slid a syringe out of his pocket and pulled off the cap with his teeth, spitting it towards Tony with a smirk.

Tony's heart sunk. They knew that Peter was Spider-Man. Why else would they sedate a teenage kid and not Tony Stark?

Peter leapt into action, but he was outnumbered and unprepared. On top of that, Tony could _tell_ he was pulling his punches. He managed to drop two of the men before the unmasked one jabbed the syringe into his arm. Within seconds, the kid was stumbling into a wall and fighting desperately to stay on his feet. The remaining men seized his arms and forced him to his knees. As he went down, Peter blearily ripped an arm free and hit the made who'd injected him hard across the face. The blow sent him sprawling.

"What the hell?" The man exclaimed, struggling to his feet and cradling his no doubt broken face. "That's enough sedatives to take down a damn elephant."

Another soldier injected a second vial into Peter's arm, and the kid slouched forward. He scrabbled sluggish hands against his captor's arms, movements growing weaker by the second.

"T'ny. T'ny. Help."

"Peter!" He yelled, flinging himself against his own guard's hold. "Get the hell away from him!"

"Adorable." The leader said. "But futile. Bring him here, Thrust."

The man who'd originally injected Peter, Thrust, apparently, let go of his swelling face and grabbed the teenager's upper arm, hauling him over to the leader. "Here you go, Boss."

The leader slid off his glove and ran his finger down Peter's cheek. The kid weakly pulled away, head lolling sideways. "N-no. T'ny."

"Don't fucking _touch_ him. You fucking hear me, asshole? Get your filthy hands _off of him._ "

They ignored him completely. The leader grabbed Peter's chin roughly and looked into his glassy eyes with a clinical expression. "He's still conscious. How fascinating. I knew his metabolism was impressive, but that _is_ surprising."

"He's not a fucking science experiment." Tony snarled. "He's a _kid._ "

"Why can he not be both, Mister Stark?" The leader let go of Peter's face abruptly, and he teenager's head dropped forward painfully. Tony winced in sympathy as the teenager let out a little whimper. "You are blinded by your affection for the boy. Any respectable scientist would recognize the opportunity your little pet presents. Tell me, Mister Stark, have you truly not been tempted to study the child?"

"I _have_ studied him." Tony snapped. He glanced at Peter nervously. The kid seemed to have gone completely limp in his captor's arms. For a second, he assumed that the drugs had completely incapacitated him. Then, he noticed Peter meet his eyes. They were still glassy, but there was a spark there.

 _He's already burning through the sedatives,_ he realized, _and Peter is just laying low until he's strong enough to fight._

Tony had to stall.

"Have you?" The leader strolled over to Tony. "And tell me, what have you learned?"

"That he's fucking _brilliant._ And he's going to kick your ass."

"Oh, are you referring to the fact that his metabolism is already making quick work of the drugs we gave him?" Tony's heart sunk. It must have shown in his face, too, because the leader barked out a cynical laugh. "Please, Mister Stark. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He turned to Thrust. "I think it's time for Plan B, don't you?"

Thrust smiled gleefully. "Right away, Sir."

He gestured for one of the men to come over, and quickly unzipped one of the compartments on his backpack. He pulled out a metal cylinder and walked over to Peter with a bounce in his step.

Tony didn't know what the hell it was that he had, but he knew that he didn't want it anywhere _near_ that kid.

"What the fuck is that?" The soldiers holding him were fucking _strong._ "What are you doing to him?"

Once again, not even a single head turned his way. Thrust twisted the cylinder, and small claw clutching a metal chip the size of Tony's palm emerged from one end. Peter started struggling once he saw it. Another soldier hastily jabbed yet another syringe into Peter's arm, injecting what Tony assumed was another wave of sedatives into the poor kid. Once he'd quite struggling and went limp in his guard's arms, eyes half-lidded, Thrust snatched his left arm and twisted it so that his inner forearm was exposed.

"Hold him still."

And then he slid a knife out of his sleeve and fucking _cut the kid's arm open._

 _That_ definitely woke the kid up. Even drugged to the gills, he jerked away and let out a strangled yell.

Thrust kept his grip on his arm and jabbed the claw into the gash, pressing a button on the side as he did so. The device made a weird _snick_ noise and then Peter _screamed._

"Peter!" God, that was the worst sound Tony had ever heard, and he'd heard his own heartbeat stop. "Peter!"

Thrust pulled the device out and another soldier stepped in to hastily close the wound. It was a shit job, each stitch was crude and lopsided, but it would help stop the bleeding, at least. By the time he was finished, Peter had gone completely lax.

"What was that? What the fuck did you do to him?"

The leader turned to him. Tony couldn't see his face, but something told him that he was smiling. "Just a simple device. It has a long acting sedative implanted. It should be effective for upwards of a month. I designed it myself with our sweet little Peter's enhanced metabolism in mind. It also has a few extra goodies. You'll see the effects of them soon enough, Mister Stark."

"I'm going to fucking _kill_ you." Tony imagined how it would feel to watch the life fade from the man's eyes. How it would sound to hear him _beg._

"A nice fantasy," the leader said, gesturing for his men to drag Peter towards the backdoor, "but a futile one. Please secure Mister Stark to one of these chairs. We can't have him following us, after all. It'll ruin all our fun."

No. _No._ They were going to take Peter, and _leave_ Tony. He couldn't let them. Tony had to _protect_ him.

"No! Peter!" No matter how much he struggled, his guards just hauled him into a seat and started binding him in place with an assortment of rope and duct tape.

The kid blinked blearily in the direction of his mentor when he heard his name. "'ny?"

Shit. Whatever they put in his arm was doing its job _._ He was impressed that Peter could even lift his head, he looked so terrible. "Kid! Kid, listen to me. I'm going to find you. Whatever they do, remember that I'm coming, okay? I'm coming."

They were shoving open the exit now. Peter was still forcing his gaze on his mentor. "Coming?"

"Yes, Peter. I'm coming. I'm going to get you out. I promise."

They dragged him out of sight, and Tony felt like he'd lost some vital piece of himself.

The leader laughed as he leaned against the doorway. The two soldiers who had been binding Tony in place finished and slid past their boss without a word. Now, it was just him and Tony.

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Mister Stark. Especially not to children. They'll believe anything, you know."

Something in his tone made Tony's blood run cold. "I swear to you, it's a promise I intend to keep. I _will_ find him."

"You can try."

The door slammed shut, and Tony's heart broke.

* * *

AN: Are there a million other things I should be working on right now? Yes! Do I already have FOUR in-progress fics? Yes! Is that going to stop The Muse? Nope!

If you liked this, shoot me a review! I seriously live for interacting with you guys and hearing what you think. I love it. And I love all of you 3


	2. Act II

AN: I'm spoiling you guys with two chapters in two days. What can I say? I love you.

Thank you to everyone who left reviews on the first chapter! I feel like I was answering 90% of those reviews in all caps bc everyone was so hype that I just couldn't help it. I seriously DO NOT know what I would do without you guys. You make writing so worth it.

I feel like the chapters only get darker from here. This one is… a lot. For reference, I ugly cried while writing AND editing it.

WARNINGS: graphic depictions of violence, mentions of torture, non-consensual drug use, death

* * *

"Tony!"

"Steve! Thank god! Get me out of this, will you?"

It had only taken the Avengers five minutes to arrive after the masked men had taken Peter. It was a record, even for them, but it was still five minutes too late.

"I'm working on it, Tony." Steve slid a knife out from his boot and started cutting through his restraints. "You good?"

"I'm fine. They didn't touch me. But Steve, they took Peter."

"We know."

"You _know_?"

The super soldier's hands stilled. His eyes met Tony's. They were full of pain. "Peter hit his panic button. That's how we got here so fast."

Of course he did. That sweet, stupid, _brilliant_ boy. "The tracker."

Steve shook his head. "They ditched it. Sam and Rhodey already checked."

 _Fuck._ As soon as they got him back, Tony was going to give the kid a GPS implant. Try ditching _that,_ you evil sons of bitches. "We have to find him, Steve. They drugged him and he…" _and he's_ _terrified_ , he thinks. But he doesn't say it. "We have to find him."

"We will, Tony."

The final bond fell away, and the billionaire lunged to his feet. Cap steadied him as the sudden change of altitude sent his vision spinning. "We need to get to the Compound _now._ Assemble the team. We need everyone on this."

Steve's hands released but continued to hover just an inch over Tony's shoulders. He looked like he was addressing a wild animal, not one of his best friends. "He's going to be okay, Tony."

"Of course he is, because I'm going to find him. And then I'm going to tear everyone who touched him apart."

It said a lot that Captain Righteousness didn't protest the brutal statement. He just nodded his assent. "You know what, Tony? That sounds like a plan I can get behind."

* * *

The first few days the men had Peter passed in a blur.

The team had checked every security camera and combed through countless hours of surveillance footage. Hell, they'd even started searching through _Snapchat stories_ for even the slightest glimpse of the kid or his kidnappers. But no matter how many tricks they used, or laws they broke, every lead turned out to be a dead end.

Tony didn't sleep. Surprisingly, no one tried to make him. Steve did force food into his hands three times a day, and wouldn't let him keep working until he'd eaten at last half of whatever it was. It all tasted the same. Nearly every member of the team kept an eye on his hydration as well, handing him water bottles regularly and taking note of how many sips he took before losing concentration and going back to furiously typing at his StarkPad. Rhodey had taken to hovering behind him at all times about 24 hours ago. The Colonel was probably waiting to catch him when Tony inevitably passed out from exhaustion.

Pepper had hidden the alcohol, but Tony didn't care. He needed to find Peter, and he couldn't do that drunk.

He'd drink himself into oblivion once his kid was tucked away in the MedBay, safe and sound and _whole._

But right now, he had work to do.

"How long?" Tony blurted. Natasha glanced up from where she was combing through security footage and fixed him with an emotionless gaze. Tony saw right through it.

"Seventy-six hours."

"That's too long." The billionaire lurched out of his chair, and saw Rhodey slide in behind him as he nearly toppled over. Tony didn't even know where he was going, but he knew that he needed to _move._ "Too long. I need to get him back."

"We're _trying,_ Tony." Suddenly, Tony's vision was filled with about 200 pounds of super soldier. "We're doing everything we can."

"It's not enough." If he wasn't so fucking tired and stressed and _terrified,_ Tony might have been embarrassed by the way his voice was cracking. "It's not _enough,_ Steve."

He thinks he heard Cap start to answer, but the world blacked out for a second and any words Steve may have uttered got lost behind a wave of white noise that roared through his ears. When he came back to himself, someone had pushed him into a chair and both Steve and Rhodey's worried faces were staring down at him.

"You can't do this to yourself, Tony." Steve placed a steadying hand on the billionaire's chest. "It's not helping Peter. We need you working at full capacity if we're going to save him."

Steve was right. _Damn_ , Tony really hated it when Steve was right.

"Okay. Okay." Tony shook his head slowly. Any faster and he knew he may blackout again. "You're right."

Steve nodded, and then met Rhodey's eyes meaningfully. The Colonel jumped into action, hands moving to complete the tasks they'd done countless times before. After all, Tony Stark wasn't know for his stellar self-care habits. This was hardly the first time his best friend had been forced to pull Tony out of a downward spiral. Rhodey set about tugging the billionaire up and guiding him out of the room. Within minutes, Tony found himself sitting on the couch with a sandwich in his hands.

"Eat, drink, and then sleep." Rhodey ordered, sitting gingerly on the coffee table in front of him and rolling a water bottle back and forth between his palms. His voice softened as he reached forward to guide the food up to Tony's mouth. "Everything is gonna be okay, Tones."

Tony ate the sandwich robotically. When it was finished, Rhodey replaced it with the water bottle. The billionaire drained it in the same fashion.

Next thing he knew, his best friend's gentle hands were guiding him onto his side and covering him with a blanket. "Just sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."

Tony caught Rhodey's wrist when he tried to pull away. "I need to find him."

"We will, Tones. We will. I promise."

( _"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Mister Stark."_ )

He closed his eyes, and all he heard were Peter's screams.

* * *

Peter couldn't remember a time when he didn't hurt.

It had been five days since they'd taken him, to his best guess. He really wasn't all that sure. His only way of telling time came from counting the sunsets as they bled through the tiny window in his cell. He'd been unconscious more often than not, though, so it could have been longer.

He missed Aunt May. He missed Ned. He missed Mister Stark.

God, he _really_ missed home.

Peter wasn't surprised by the tears this time. Whatever it was they'd injected into his arm seemed to weaken everything about him. The drugs brought his emotions to the forefront of his being. There was no way to avoid them, no way to escape. He cried a lot, nowadays. He'd grown strangely apathetic to it.

Peter had decided that the drugs were the worst part. The pain, he could handle. In the end, it was just pain. It was something he could control. Something he could resist. The drugs, however, made him helpless. It felt like all his strength had been sapped out of him. No matter how hard he struggled, a single guard could easily overpower him.

Even before the spiderbite, Peter had never been this _weak._

After a little probing in a clearer moment, Peter had discovered that they'd injected something _solid_ into his arm. An implant, Peter guessed, that released the sedatives continuously. His captors could program the implant to release different amounts at different times, though. When they had him locked in his room, they had the stream at the lowest level. Just enough to make his powers null, but not enough to knock him out.

But Peter always knew when the men were coming, because the wave of drugs would make his vision wash out before he could even hear the boots thumping on the metal floors.

They never actually drugged him to the point of unconsciousness. Peter had started to wish they would. He always felt it when they did their… _experiments._

The Boss, as Peter had started to call him, had explained the experiments early on, but the teenager had been too out of it to really absorb much of the conversation. What he did manage to glean, however, didn't exactly take a genius to puzzle out.

They wanted to understand what made Spider-Man tick, and they would happily tear him apart to do it.

God, pain and drugs made coherent thought _exhausting_. Peter had tried to keep track of the experiments in the beginning, but he'd given up days ago. It didn't matter, anyway. The only thing that mattered was the pain.

He was starting to drift off again when he heard men approaching the cell.

No. That didn't make sense. They forgot the drugs.

 _Maybe he could escape._

Peter stumbled to his feet, sliding into a defensive stance as the door swung open. When it did, all his hopes of freedom slipped away.

The guards were armed to the teeth, and there were ten of them. The Boss filed in at the end, giving Peter a twisted smile as two men quickly seized him. A third pressed the muzzle of a gun into his side, while a fourth started setting up… a video camera? The others just stood silently along the walls. Watching. Waiting.

 _Waiting for what?_

"Good afternoon, Mister Parker." The Boss said, strolling up to him. "Today marks a change in our regular programming."

"What?" Peter blinked. It was easy to forget just how much the drugs affected his processing time when he was alone. Now that he was trying to keep up with a conversation, however, it seemed painfully obvious. "What change?"

The Boss patted his cheek, and Peter cringed away. "You don't need to worry about that just yet. In fact, you won't be worrying about it at all, soon enough. But before we can move on, we need to throw a certain billionaire off our trail."

 _Tony._ "He's gonna find you." Peter spat. "He's gonna find you and he's gonna kill you."

"Your hero worship is childish, but admittedly amusing." The Boss turned to the guard with the camera. "Is it ready?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Transmit. Let me know as soon as Mister Stark is tuned in."

A few moments later, the guard shot The Boss a nod.

"Hello, Mister Stark." The Boss gave a little wave to the camera. "Say hello, Peter. Your hero is watching this live."

Peter looked up weakly at the camera, but said nothing.

"It seems our little boy is feeling tongue tied." The Boss laughed, insane and dark and _cold._ "Shall I tell him what you've been screaming, Peter? Do you remember?"

In all honesty, he didn't. His confusion must have shown in his eyes, since The Boss just smiled cruelly. "Oh, I suppose you don't. After all, you've been rather out of it. He's been screaming for you, Mister Stark. Begging for Iron Man to come save him." The Boss' voice was mocking. "But you didn't come, did you? You left him all alone." The Boss drew a gun and pressed it right to Peter's temple. "You left him to die."

Peter looked around him with wild eyes. _No,_ he thought, fear making his head spin, _I don't want to die. I'm not ready to die. Not yet. I'm not ready. Please, I'm not ready._

Tears were streaming down his face now. He didn't want to cry. He didn't want this to be how Mister Stark remembered him. But he couldn't help it. The harder he worked to compose himself, the more sobs seemed to wiggle their way up his throat.

"You see, we've learned quite a lot from your little boy, Stark. But unfortunately, we've exhausted his usefulness." The Boss leaned in close. Peter could feel his breath on his cheek. "Do you have anything you'd like to say to Mister Stark, Peter? Say it quickly, now. You won't have another chance."

The words flowed out before Peter could stop them. "I-I'm s-sorry, T-Tony. I'm sorry. Tell… tell Aunt May I love her. I-I love you, too. I love you. A-and… th-thank you. F-for everything."

"He's afraid, Mister Stark. Can you see it? I'm sure you can. I hope you remember that. Remember that he died afraid."

Peter felt the familiar flood of drugs slide through his veins. The last thing he heard was the loud bang of a gunshot right by his ear, and then everything slipped away.

* * *

Peter had been gone for a week when the livestream came in.

"Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice was urgent, "I'm receiving an incoming livestream from an unknown source. Facial recognition is positive for Peter Parker."

"Put it on. _Now_." Tony's heart was hammering. _Peter._

The image that flickered up on the TV screen nearly made him vomit.

The kid was being restrained by two guards. He head was hanging forward, dark curls obscuring his face from the camera.

"Hello, Mister Stark." Tony recognized the voice instantly. It was the man who had called all the shots at the pizza place. The leader. "Say hello, Peter. Your hero is watching this live."

Tony's hands clenched into painful fists when the kid looked up to stare into the camera with glassy, terrified eyes. There was blood and dirt caking his face. Even in the low lighting of what Tony assumed was a cell, the bruises on Peter's face stood out starkly against his pale skin.

"It seems our little boy is feeling tongue tied. Shall I tell him what you've been screaming, Peter? Do you remember?"

Peter looked at the leader, confusion shining in his brown eyes. The man laughed, and continued in a patronizing voice. "Oh, I suppose you don't. After all, you've been rather out of it. He's been screaming for you, Mister Stark. Begging for Iron Man to come save him." The leader switched his attention from Peter to the camera, looking Tony dead in the eyes. "But you didn't come, did you? You left him all alone."

Tony felt guilt well up in his chest, because everything the man said was true. Peter had been waiting for his hero to save the day, like he always did, and Tony had failed him.

Just like he had failed everyone else who mattered.

When the leader put a gun against Peter's temple, Tony took a half step towards the TV in desperation. All of this was happening _right now_ , and yet he was powerless to stop it.

The leader gave the camera a sickening smile. "You left him to die." The safety clicked off.

When Peter's gaze caught Tony's through the screen, the billionaire's breath got caught in a vice. There was raw, unhidden terror there. Tears were streaming down the kid's bloodied face, and Tony could practically _see_ the teenager's internal struggle to not lose control.

 _No,_ Tony thought, _not him. Anyone but him. He has to outlive me. This was never the plan. I'm not ready. Please, I'm not ready._

A hiccupping sob broke out of the kid's mouth, and the little noise made Tony's head spin. He felt Steve's grounding hand on his shoulder, but all he could see was a pair of frightened brown eyes and a mop of unruly curls.

"You see, we've learned quite a lot from your little boy, Stark. But unfortunately, we've exhausted his usefulness." The leader moved so close to Peter that his lips nearly brushed the kid's cheekbone when he spoke. Tony tasted bile as the teenager squirmed and shook in his guards' holds. "Do you have anything you'd like to say to Mister Stark, Peter? Say it quickly, now. You won't have another chance."

"I-I'm s-sorry, T-Tony." God, the kid was _apologizing._ It was heartbreaking, but it was just such a _Peter_ thing to do that it stole Tony's breath away.

 _He used my name. He called me Tony._

"I'm sorry. Tell… tell Aunt May I love her. I-I love you, too. I love you. A-and… th-thank you. F-for everything."

 _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou._

At some point, Tony had moved to stand right in front of the TV. His hand moved to cup Peter's face against the screen. "No, Peter. Don't give up. _Please_ don't give up. I'm coming, buddy. Don't do this."

"He's afraid, Mister Stark. Can you see it?" The leader ran a gloved hand through the kid's hair. It stuck up in all the wrong places and Tony's own fingers itched to ruffle it back into place. "I'm sure you can. I hope you remember that. Remember that he died afraid."

He was going to kill him. This man was going to kill Peter and Tony was going to have to watch.

He doesn't know why he said it. It came out in a rush of air and desperation before Tony could even think it through. For some reason, he needed to say it while the kid was still breathing, even if the teenager couldn't actually hear him. Maybe, by some unknown force, he would know. Maybe Peter would feel it, at the end.

"I love you too, kid. I love you so much."

The gun went off, blood splattered, and the best and purest thing Tony had ever known went down in a heap.

"I told you not to make promises you couldn't keep, Mister Stark." The leader nudged Peter's unmoving body with the toe of his boot. "How does it feel, I wonder, to know that the last thing you ever said to him was a lie?"

The livestream cut off, and Tony realized, with detached serenity, that he'd never be happy again.

And then he threw up.

* * *

AN: Sorry?


	3. Act III

AN: I'm not gonna lie to you guys. I kept alternating between crying and wincing when writing this chapter. It's sad. It's angsty. It's also very, VERY creepy. (At least to me). The entirety of this chapter was written in one sitting, without stopping. I then left it for TWO WEEKS before coming back to edit it. So... there's that.

Hopefully it satisfies.

* * *

Rhodey was talking, but the words washed over Tony in a blur of white noise.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Peter was _dead._

"Tony. Tony, I need you to try to breathe for me, okay?" It didn't matter. It didn't matter. Peter was never going to breathe again, so why should Tony? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't _fair_. " _Tony_. You need to listen to me, man. _Breathe._ "

The Colonel was kneeling in front of the billionaire, gripping his forearms tightly. Tony met his eyes and found that he didn't care about the tears spilling down his cheeks and soaking into his beard. If anyone was going to make Tony Stark cry, it was Peter Parker.

If anyone _deserved_ it, it was his kid.

"Is-is he…?"

"Yeah, Tones. We're pretty sure."

A guttural sob tore its way through Tony's chest. Peter was dead. Peter was dead and it _hurt._ "I _promised,_ Rhodey. I promised him that I was coming. I _swore_."

"We'll find him, Tony. You don't have to break that promise. We're going to bring him home."

Tony heard what Rhodey didn't say. _We're going to bring his body back for you and May to bury._

Peter was dead. Peter was dead. Peter was dead

( _"He's afraid, Mister Stark. Can you see it?"_ )

Rhodey was talking to someone over his shoulder, but all Tony could hear was the echo of a gunshot and the kid's final words.

( _"I-I love you, too. I love you."_ )

Peter had died, and Tony hadn't even been there. He hadn't been able to brush the kid's sweaty curls from his face as the light faded from his stupidly young brown eyes. He hadn't been able to tell him how proud he was of the person he'd become as he took his final breaths. He hadn't been able to make it painless, to make it peaceful, to press a gentle kiss to his child's temple as his eyelids slid shut for the final time.

His kid had left the world alone, and terrified, and not while cradled in Tony's arms.

( _"Remember that he died afraid."_ )

He would carry that sin for the rest of his life. He could feel it in his lungs, which, coincidentally, seemed to have stopped working altogether.

There was a prick in his arm, and he felt himself slumping forward into his best friend's shaking arms. As the cocoon of darkness wrapped around him, he heard Rhodey murmuring in his ear.

"Just relax, Tones. There you go. Don't fight it. Everything's going to be alright."

And so Tony fell asleep under a blanket of lies.

* * *

Peter woke up confused.

After all, he was pretty sure that he was dead.

He tried to raise his head, but found that there was a thick leather strap across his forehead. His arms, legs, chest, and pelvis were similarly confined.

"Good morning, Peter."

He had to strain his eyes to the right to catch a glimpse of The Boss.

"I understand that you're probably very confused. Don't worry. That'll all go away soon." The Boss gestured for one of the men behind him to come forward. "Tell me, Peter, have you ever heard of the Winter Soldier?"

His heart started thumping wildly in his chest. He'd heard Steve talk about Bucky. He was locked up in cryo while Wakandan scientists worked to remove Hydra's programming from his brain.

Tony had tried to shelter Peter from most of Bucky's crimes, but he knew enough.

He knew he'd killed Tony's parents.

The fear must have shown on his face, because The Boss laughed. "I see that you do. Unfortunately for us, we don't have the information necessary to follow Hydra's programming. However, I've been doing quite a bit of research myself." The man leaned in. "You see, Peter, scientists have been searching for _years_ for a drug that can alter a subject's perception to the point of total submission. A drug that can create the perfect soldier. And I've discovered it. And guess what? That implant in your arm has enough of it to keep you under my control for weeks."

Peter wanted May. He wanted Ned. He wanted Mister Stark. He wanted to go home. Unbidden, tears sprung from his eyes and slid down his temples. A thumb brushed them away, but it was wrong. The pad wasn't soft like May's and the callouses weren't in the right place to be Mister Stark's.

"Don't cry, Peter. Just relax. Before you know it, you won't be worried about anything anymore. You won't even remember this conversation. You won't remember that you're Spider-Man. You'll forget all about Tony Stark, and your sweet little aunt, and everything else. I'm setting you free."

He was sobbing now. He didn't want to forget. He wanted to remember.

"You should've killed me." Peter sobbed. "Please. You should've killed me."

The Boss pressed a button on the remote that Peter had grown all too familiar with. For a moment, the teenager was so busy panicking that he didn't even feel the cool rush of the drug flooding his system.

"N-no. Please. Please, don't."

The Boss just placed his hand over his forehead and made shushing noises. "This will be easier if you do not fight. Just close your eyes. Let it all go."

Peter could feel it now. His veins felt cold. His breathing started slowing against his will.

 _No,_ he thought, resolve hardening, _I will not forget._

So Peter remembered. He remembered the way May sang, badly and offkey, while she burned his pancakes on the morning. He remembered how soft Ned's hoodies always were, and how his friend would laugh when he stole them. He remembered how Mister Stark's hands would brush over his as they worked on something in the workshop, strong and steady.

As he snatched at the memories, he could _feel_ the drug pulling them away. There was a strange haze settling over him. Every thought seemed to flow through a sieve.

A strong feeling of apathy collided with his determination. For a moment, Peter almost lost his balance. It would feel so nice to just relax, to just let go, to just forget…

No. _No._ Peter had to remember.

May's perfume, lingering on the pillowcase. Ned's favorite Lego sets, strewn out on the floor. Mister Stark's solid chest, pressed against his cheek after a nightmare.

Remember. Remember. Remember.

May's hair. Ned's smile. Tony's laugh.

May. Ned. Tony.

Everything around him greyed out. He was so _tired._ He wanted to sleep. Why was he fighting? Fighting was hard. Forgetting was easy.

 _My name is Peter Parker. I am Spider-Man. My aunt's name is May. My best friend's name is Ned. My mentor's name is Tony Stark. I love them._

 _My name is Peter Parker. I am… I am… I am…_

 _My name is Peter Parker. May. Ned. Tony._

 _My name is Peter Parker. M-may. Ned? T-t-t..._

 _My name is Peter._

 _My name is…_

 _My name is…_

 _My name…_

* * *

"How do you feel, Peter?"

The boy opened his eyes and stared up blankly at the man's face hovering above him. Who was Peter?

The man laughed. The boy didn't understand why the sound made him flinch against his restraints. Some vague, fleeting feeling told him that the leather straps should frighten him, but the fog around his brain swallowed it up just as quickly.

The man tapped his cheek. "Can you speak?"

The boy thinks he can. "Yes." Turns out, he was right.

"Good. Tell me, how do you feel?"

Warm. Drowsy. Absent. "Strange."

"Elaborate, please. Do you feel calm?"

Calm? Yes. The boy felt very calm. It was nice. Every worry seemed to slide right over him. "Yes."

"Can you tell me your name?"

His name? Did he have one? "No."

"Does that bother you?"

For some reason, that made the boy laugh. He felt strangely euphoric. "No."

The man smiled. "Good." The boy could see him press a button on the remote. "This may feel strange. Do not fight it."

Fight? The boy didn't like that word. He told the man as such as he felt another rush of… something in his veins.

"How do you like the word obey?"

The euphoria was being replaced by a spreading numbness. Everything fell away. His eyes were open, but he did not see. All he heard was the steady voice of the man.

"Answer me. Do you want to obey?"

"I-I don't…"

"Do you want to think?"

Thinking. Thinking was hard. It hurt. The boy didn't like it. "No."

"If you obey, you do not have to think. Would you like to obey?"

Obey. Yes. The boy liked that word. He wanted to sink into it and let it consume him. "Yes."

"Good boy. You obey. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I obey."

"Good boy. You will call me Sir. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy."

* * *

Consciousness came back slowly, but his grief slammed down on him all at once.

He opened his eyes with a sob.

Bruce and Rhodey were both sitting beside him. He was in the MedBay, but he wasn't hooked up to any monitors. When Tony tried to reach out to his friends, however, his arms hit resistance.

He glanced down and saw that his wrists were bound with soft restraints. Anger snarled through him.

"What the fuck, Bruce?"

"Calm down, Tony." The scientist looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. "You need to relax."

"Oh, and tying me down is really gonna help me _relax,_ isn't it?"

Rhodey shoved a strong hand against his chest. "We didn't want risk you hurting yourself." His best friend paused before correcting the sentence. "We _don't_ want to risk you hurting yourself."

They thought he was going to lose it.

Once the initial flash of indignation passed, it honestly seemed pretty logical.

Tony dropped back against the pillows listlessly. "Oh."

Bruce swallowed. "How do you feel?"

The billionaire just fixed him with an empty stare. "He's gone."

"Steve's trying to…" Rhodey gripped the bedrail hard enough to make the plastic crack a little. "Steve's trying to find his… his body. Somebody needs to call his aunt."

Tony flinched. Oh god. _May._

He would never survive that conversation.

"No."

"No? Tony, someone has to tell her. I can do it, if you don't think you can-"

Tony cut him off. He didn't _understand._ "No. We don't tell her until we… until he's home."

 _Until I can give May her baby in a casket._

Bruce's voice was solid. Tony hates him for it. "We might not find the body, Tony. They could have… there's a lot of things they could've done with it."

"We'll find him."

Rhodey just sighed and exchanged a glance with Bruce. Both men were looking at the genius as if the slightest wind might unravel him.

And it might. Every second that passed, the reality of what he lost seemed to settle down in his soul.

Peter had told him once that one of the densest entities in the universe was a white dwarf star. Apparently, the kid had learned it from some science documentary he'd been watching while waiting for Tony to finish up a meeting.

The kid's absence was curling in his chest, and it felt like he'd created his very own white dwarf at the center of his being. There was a heaviness there like nothing he had ever known. And Tony knew, wholeheartedly, that he would carry this companion forever.

The pain would never leave him, because if it did, _Peter_ would leave him.

And Tony couldn't lose him twice.

He didn't even realize he was crying until Bruce pointed it out.

"Oh, Tony." The scientist looked like he wanted to be anywhere other than here. "I'm so sorry."

A sudden desperation seized the billionaire's heart. He tried to lunge for Rhodey's arm, but hit the ends of his restraints instead. Thankfully, the Colonel got the message and put his wrist close enough for Tony to grab. "God, Rhodey, they _shot_ him. That-that isn't always… it doesn't always fi-finish… what if he-"

 _What if the bullet didn't kill him right away? What if he bled out from his brain? What if his final moments were drawn out and full of agony?_

"I don't know if this will help much," the Colonel paused, looking at Tony delicately, "but I saw a lot of executions in my time. I… the angle was perfect. Peter would've gone out like a light. Nice and painless. Faster than going to sleep."

Tony choked. That was exactly what he'd wanted to hear, so why didn't that make him feel better?

"Tony," Bruce had moved to set a gentle hand on his shoulder, "if you want us to let you out of these restraints, you'll have to calm down."

Rhodey was talking, too. "Take some deep breaths, Tones."

Tony followed his friends' instructions, and clung to the memory of soft brown curls and an innocent laugh.

He tried to forget the bloodstains.

* * *

AN: Do y'all think I'm going to hell for this fic? Honestly, my personal bet is on yes.


	4. Act IV

AN: Hey guys! Sorry this one took so long. I saw Infinity War and spent, like, a hundred years just suffering under a blanket of feels. JUST FYI, I WILL NOT PUT SPOILERS IN THE AUTHOR'S NOTES OR THE STORY. THIS IS A SPOILER FREE ZONE. PLEASE DO NOT SPOIL THE MOVIE IN THE COMMENTS! If you want to SCREAM with me, feel free to message me on Tumblr or Instagram (same username as on here: losingmymindtonight). MY INSTAGRAM IS SPOILER FREE BUT MY TUMBLR IS NOT. I tag all my spoilers with "iw spoilers" "spoilers" and "infinity war spoilers" so make sure you have those blacklisted if you're avoiding anything.

ANYWAY: thank you so much for all your reviews on the last chapter! As always, I write this because you guys want to consume it. Hopefully, you'll love this new update just as much as I do.

* * *

The boy passed all his tests.

He dropped every man they put in front of him in hand-to-hand. He hacked every system and solved every equation. He took every beating, every reprimand, with stoic acceptance.

Sir told him he was almost ready. The boy didn't know for what.

"Come here, soldier." The boy walked up to Sir and made sure to drop his eyes respectfully. He learned the hard way what happened if you looked Sir in the eyes.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Are you ready for your mission?"

(" _When's our next "retreat," you know?"  
_ " _What, next mission?"  
_ " _Yeah, the mission. The missions."_ )

The boy hid the flash of a memory behind a facade of indifference. Sir didn't like it when he remembered. He'd learned that the hard way, too.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy. Your job is to apprehend the Avengers and take out a threat known as Iron Man. We're creating a distraction to draw him out. All you need to do is eliminate your target. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do not fail."

The boy swallowed.

 _I will not fail._

* * *

A month had passed since Peter… since Peter...

Tony didn't want to think about it.

He'd had May moved to a safe house. Told her that Peter was in one, too. The billionaire had made up some bullshit about threats to Spider-Man and his family made by a terrorist group.

He didn't tell her that their kid was gone.

Tony was sitting on the couch, staring at the blank TV, when Steve sat down next to him.

"I don't think we're going to find him, Tony."

"We have to."

The soldier gave a sympathetic sigh. It made Tony feel sick. "At this point, I don't think there's even a body to _find,_ Tony. Please, we have to be rational about this. I know you're hurting, but we can't keep May in the dark for-"

The Compound's alarm blared.

Tony leapt to his feet, feeling sickly grateful for the interruption. He was getting tired of his teammates treating him like he was broken. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Talk to me."

"It appears that a squadron of armed men are making an attempt to penetrate the Compound."

The suit was already materializing around him. "How many?"

"A dozen."

He laughed. "Just _twelve_? They're going to take on the entire Avengers with just twelve men?"

"There appears to be two more men stationed in their vehicle. From my bioscans, I believe that one of them may be enhanced."

"Wonderful." Tony landed heavily on the roof. Beside him, Clint notched an arrow and squinted at the approaching men. He could see Steve and Natasha on the ground below. Rhodey flew up beside him an instant later.

"Why so few?" Rhodey asked, shaking his head. "I don't like this. It's too bold."

"Be cautious." Steve ordered. "Natasha and I will try to scatter them from the ground. Tony, Rhodey, and Vision will stick to the sky. Clint, do your thing."

"Aye aye, Captain." Clint smirked.

"Well," Tony blasted towards the black figures, "let's go meet our guests, shall we?"

The fight was piteously easy. The twelve men were down in minutes. But then, as Tony stalked towards the armored vehicle in order to incapacitate the enhanced, _he_ slid out of the car.

And just like that, the man who killed his kid was standing right in front of him.

It must be fucking Christmas.

"Mister Stark." The man smiled, spreading his arms wide. "How are you?"

Tony snarled. He couldn't feel anything other than bloodlust rushing through his veins. This man had snuffed our Peter's future without even a flicker of remorse. Because of him, that kid would never graduate. He's never get his first kiss. He'd never go to college. He'd never have a kid of his own.

Because of that man, Tony would never hold his kid again.

Cap and the others were all congregating in the background, but no one made a move to stop him as he stalked towards the car. He could hear Rhodey's harsh breathing through the comms.

The man seemed completely unfazed by the entirety of the Avengers staring at him with murder in their eyes. "I have a present for you."

A mix of dread and longing curled in his chest.

 _Peter._ He had Peter's body.

"Come on out now, will you?"

When the kid slid out of the vehicle, Tony's brain short circuited.

If he hadn't been wearing the suit, he would have crumbled to the ground in a heap of grief and shock. It was _Peter._ Peter, who was very much alive.

 _Peter._

He had a second chance. He could tell the kid he loved him. He could hold him in his arms and brush those ridiculous curls out of his face. He could watch the kid he loved as if he were is own grow into the amazing man he was destined to be.

But then he really _looked_ at Peter, and his heart plummeted.

The kid was dressed in the same black uniform the other soldiers had worn. A bulletproof vest was fit tightly around his ribcage, and a fucking _handgun_ hung from a holster at his hip. He looked _wrong_ in the color. Peter was vibrancy. He was nerdy science tees and his red and blue Spider-Man suit. He wasn't meant for shades of gray.

"Peter." He breathed, and something cracked in his soul when he looked into his kid's eyes.

They were empty. Glassy. There wasn't a single spark of Peter in their depths. He looked vacant.

Like someone had sucked him out, and stuffed a soldier in.

The leader turned to Peter, and the kid's gaze dropped straight to the ground. Everything about his posture was submissive. It made Tony feel sick. "Do you remember your mission?"

"Yes, Sir." There wasn't an ounce of Peter's usual exuberance in that tone. It was lifeless. It was _hopeless._

"Good boy." Good boy, as if Peter was a _dog._ "Then execute."

Peter moved towards Tony wordlessly. "Peter?" The billionaire retracted the faceplate quickly. His fingers itched to pull the kid close and to smooth that dirty, errant curl from his face. If he could just _hold him_ , Tony could pull him back to himself. He knew it. "Peter, buddy. Are you in there?"

The kid didn't falter. He swung a fist at his mentor's face, and the man stumbled backward in shock.

"Kiddo? Kiddo, it's me. It's Tony." He blocked another blow. " _God,_ Peter. You're alive." Despite the situation, Tony felt like he might ignite with happiness. Peter was _alive._ They could fix this. As long as he was alive, Tony could fix him. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, kiddie. I've missed you."

The kid snarled. The feral expression was grotesque on his innocent face. "Shut up."

Tony ignored him. "I'm so sorry I couldn't find you, Peter. I'm so, so sorry. I know I promised. I know you must be scared." He stumbled back as the kid drove his knee against the suit's stomach plate. "You have to remember, Peter. You have to remember what happened." The billionaire allowed himself a brief moment of weakness as he pleaded. "You have to remember _me_ , buddy."

Peter faltered. Tony caught his arm as the teenager aborted a punch and tugged him into a tight embrace that was more confining than comforting. Oh well. They'd get there.

The kid was struggling, but not harshly. Tony took that as a good sign. He pressed his cheek against the kid's head and whispered to him. "I've got you, Peter. They aren't going to take you away from me again. You're safe. You're _safe_."

Peter froze. Tony could feel every muscle in the kid's body tense.

The billionaire closed his eyes and let the words that had been richochetting around in his head for a month slip out. "I love you too, kiddo. Just so you know. I love you too."

Peter was shaking, and Tony could feel his heart breaking at causing the kid so much agony. But he couldn't back down. He needed Peter to _remember_.

"Peter, please. Just relax. Let me help you."

The kid quivered. There was a strange hitch in his breath as he stared forward sightlessly.

"Peter? Can you hear me? I don't know what they did to you, but I'm going to fix it, okay? You're going to be alright. Just stop fighting."

Somehow, his words acted like a switch. Peter slumped backwards, his head rolling onto Tony's shoulder. The billionaire could just see the side of his face as the kid's eyes fixed blearily on the sky.

"Finish the mission." The leader snarled. The sudden voice made him jump. Tony was so focused on Peter that he forgot that there were other people around them. When he glanced up at the man who had taken _everything_ from him, he felt a rush of satisfaction to see that he looked afraid.

Time seemed to still for a moment. Peter leaned into Tony's chest and blinked slowly at the passing clouds. Then, he tore out of his mentor's grasp, and went straight for the kill.

* * *

The boy slid out of the armored truck, and surveyed the situation absently.

The other soldiers were all down, but that was okay. Sir had told him that that would happen. He told he boy that all they needed was him.

His eyes landed on Iron Man. His mission.

"Peter."

The boy had heard that name before. For some reason, he just couldn't place where. As soon as he started to feel frustration rise in his chest, it slid away like a distant sunset.

Sir spoke to him. "Do you remember your mission?"

The boy adopted the posture he knew Sir liked. "Yes, Sir."

"Good boy." The boy felt a flash of relief. He obeyed, so Sir was happy. It was never good for the boy if Sir wasn't happy. "Then execute."

He stepped towards Iron Man.

"Peter?" There was that name again. The faceplate on the suit folded away, and the boy felt a strange twist in his gut as he surveyed the man's features. "Peter, buddy. Are you there?"

He _hated_ that name. That name made him want to disobey, to think, to _remember._ We threw a fist at the man's face, but he dodged it easily. For some reason, he hadn't put nearly enough force behind the swing. Why not? What was wrong with him?

"Kiddo? Kiddo, it's me. It's Tony." Another name. This one hurt, too. The boy wanted to scream. " _God,_ Peter. You're alive." Why did the man sound so _happy_? Couldn't he see that the boy was going to kill him? "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, kiddie. I've missed you."

 _I'vemissedyouI'vemissedyouI'vemissedyou._

A memory. Vague and distorted and _painful._

(" _He's been screaming for you, Mister Stark. Begging for Iron Man to come save him. But you didn't come, did you? You left him all alone."_ )

The kid snarled. _No_. He didn't want to remember. "Shut up."

But the man _didn't._ "I'm so sorry I couldn't find you, Peter. I'm so, so sorry. I know I promised. I know you must be scared. You have to remember what happened. You have to remember _me_ , buddy."

(" _Kid! Kid, listen to me. I'm going to find you. Whatever they do, remember that I'm coming, okay? I'm coming."_ )

The man sounded afraid. But not _of_ Peter. No. The man was afraid _for_ Peter.

Suddenly, he was being tugged against a solid chest, and another memory flashed in front of his eyes.

(" _It's not a hug. I'm just grabbing the door for you. We're not there yet."_ )

 _God,_ it hurt. He tried to get free, but some previously dormant instinct reared up and filled him with a bizarre desire to just slump back into the man's arms and let everything else drift away.

"I've got you, Peter. They aren't going to take you away from me again. You're safe. You're _safe_."

(" _He's gonna find you. He's gonna find you and he's gonna kill you."_ )

"I love you too, kiddo. Just so you know. I love you too."

(" _I-I'm s-sorry, T-Tony. I'm sorry. Tell… tell Aunt May I love her. I-I love you, too. I love you. A-and… th-thank you. F-for everything."_ )

 _I know him._

How did he know him? The boy didn't like this. He didn't like thinking. He just wanted to obey. He just wanted to be good.

 _But… but I know him._

"Peter, please. Just relax. Let me help you."

 _PeterPeterPeter._

The man said that name, and the boy nearly collapsed as his chest filled with something other than forced apathy. Warmth. Protection. _Love._

The boy loved this man.

(" _I-I love you, too. I love you."_ )

Why? Who was he?

"Peter? Can you hear me?" He could, but for some reason his mouth wasn't his to command. "I don't know what they did to you, but I'm going to fix it, okay? It's going to be alright. Just stop fighting."

The boy could feel every ounce of resistance slide out of him. In a way, it reminded him of how it felt when Sir gave him a dose of the drug. But this wasn't frightening. The boy was always frightened when he felt the ice rush through his veins and cloud his thoughts. No, this was different. This was warm and safe and _right._

Sir's voice sounded muffled through the cotton in the boy's ears. He sounded… worried? "Finish the mission."

The boy shook his head. He didn't want to hurt this man. He _couldn't_ hurt this man.

He was afraid of Sir. Sir hurt him. But the man holding him… something deep inside the boy was telling him to close his eyes and let the man handle everything. This man would protect him from Sir.

The boy didn't know much of anything, anymore, but he knew that fact as sure as he knew that the sun would rise.

No more tests. No more drugs. No more pain.

 _No more._

The boy lunged out of the man's embrace and seized Sir by the throat.

Within seconds, the man's arms were hauling him away and someone _strong_ yanked Sir out of his grasp. He was suddenly on the ground, but he didn't feel afraid. This wasn't like the times the boy would collapse from exhaustion or hunger and Sir would have the other soldiers beat him. This was nice. This was warm. This was _safe._

He was laying in the man's lap. His hands were fumbling with the boy's holster. As soon as the gun was free, he flung it far into the distance. When the boy's gaze refocused on his face, he saw that the man was crying. The boy didn't like that. It felt wrong.

"Oh, Peter. _Peter._ "

He kept saying that name. The boy thought he knew what it was, but needed to know for sure.

"Is-am I Peter?"

A strangled sob tore out of the man's throat. " _Yes._ You're Peter. My Peter."

 _My Peter._

Peter. His name was Peter.

Suddenly, the man's hand was in his hair. The touch was gentle. He had forgotten what it was like for someone to touch him gently. It triggered some visceral reaction in the boy, and he felt himself sinking into the man's touch as his eyes fluttered shut.

The man was rocking them now. One hand kept up its ministrations at his hairline while the other was brushing a calloused thumb across his cheekbone. The boy ( _my name is Peter_ ) hummed contentedly. He felt like something in his chest had slotted into place. He felt safe.

He liked it.

The man was talking. Peter let the words flow over him, soaking up every inflection and syllable greedily. "I'm right here, kiddo. I'm going to fix this. Your name is Peter. My name is Tony, but you call me Mister Stark. Your name is Peter. Do you remember that, Peter?"

That was a question. The boy had to answer questions. He peeled his heavy eyes open and sluggishly averted his gaze. "No, Sir."

"Look at me, kiddo." An order. The boy followed those. He met the man's fearful eyes. "Don't call me that, okay? Now, tell me your name."

"P-Peter." It felt good in his mouth. Familiar.

The man gave him a brilliant smile. "That's it. Your name is Peter."

"Peter." He whispered the word reverently. "Mister Stark. Tony."

He liked the names. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt in control.

"That's right, buddy. Peter. Tony."

Suddenly, a second face appeared over the man's, _Tony's,_ shoulder. The boy panicked, clutching desperately for the safety of the man as his breathing spiked.

The second man winced, but addressed Peter's man ( _Mister Stark? Tony?_ ) steadily. "Tony? I think we need to restrain him."

Tony whipped his gaze away from the boy and tightened his grip around him with a snarl. "What the _fuck,_ Steve?"

The other man, _Steve_ , raised his hands placatingly. "We found a remote on the guy. Remember that implant you talked about? Bruce thinks the remote controls a drug release. We don't know what's in his system, and Bruce needs to examine him. He tried to kill you, Tony. We can't risk it."

"Is the drug why he doesn't remember anything?"

"Bruce thinks so."

"That's not good enough. We need to know for _sure_."

"Natasha has the leader. Give her ten more minutes, and he'll sing." Steve's hand brushed the man's shoulder. "Let us do what we need to do, Tony. To keep both Bruce and Peter safe. Please."

The man gave a shaky breath. "Do you have them?"

"The restraints? Yes. Do you want me to do it?"

"No. I will." The man took the metal cuffs from Steve. "These'll hold him?"

"They'd hold me."

"Okay." Steve disappeared, and the man gave Peter a shaky smile. "I've going to put these on your wrists, alright? I know it's scary, but I just need you to relax and trust me."

Trust. Did he trust him? Yes. He did. He trusted the man. He trusted _Tony_.

The boy pressed his hands together and offered them to the man. He thought it might make him happy, but for some reason Tony just flinched back before sliding the cuffs into place, checking repetitively that they weren't too tight. "Good job, buddy. I promise we'll get these off soon."

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Tony scooped him up and carried him across the lawn, into an elevator, and then into a large, white room. Another man was waiting for them there.

"Hey there, Peter." The new man said. This one knew him, too? "It's nice to see you."

Before the boy could formulate an answer, Tony was settling him onto a bed and talking. "Can you take the implant out, Bruce?"

"Yes." The new man, Bruce, said. "But I can't sedate him."

"I'm sorry." Tony sounded dangerous. "You want to dig into my kid's arm _without sedation_?"

 _My kid._ The boy was Tony's kid? Yeah. That sounded right.

"I can't risk a drug interaction, Tony! It could kill him. Steve's coming. He'll hold him down while you keep him calm. I think I'll be able to do it quickly. Once it's out, we can start on flushing the drugs from his system."

The man took a steady breath before turning to talk to the boy. "Alright, Peter. This is gonna suck, but I promise it'll be over quick, okay?"

The boy blinked. "My name is Peter."

Tony gave the boy an indulgent smile. "Yeah, buddy. You've got it."

"And you're my… dad?"

The man choked on a breath. "No, kiddo. I'm not your dad."

That didn't make any sense. The boy _loved_ this man. This man protected him. He knew that. He could feel it in his bones. "No. No. No. You-what-how-"

Tony brushed his knuckles down the boy's cheek. "Shh, Peter. Don't worry about it, okay?"

The big man, Steve, slid into the room. Tony gestured for him to come closer. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

Steve produced another set of metal restraints and offered them to Tony wordlessly. The man took them with a look of disgust. "I'm sorry about this, buddy, but I'm going to cuff your wrists to the bed now, okay?" He waited until Peter nodded before disengaging the current set of bonds and fastening both of Peter arms to the metal bed frame. As soon as he was finished, Steve gripped the boy's elbow and wrist in surprisingly gentle hands and twisted the limb so that his scarred forearm was exposed. Tony stayed by his head, brushing soothing fingers through his curls while the other man (Bruce?) started wiping his skin with an alcohol swab.

"I'm going to numb the arm, but I'm not sure how effective it'll be. I'll go as fast as I can."

"Do you understand what's about to happen, Peter?" Tony caught his eyes. "Bruce is going to take out that implant. It's probably going to hurt, but you need to stay still."

The boy was used to pain. He knew pain. Pain was familiar. "Okay."

There was a small prick in his arm, and then numbness began spreading out from the point. Tony glanced back and Bruce before raising an eyebrow at the boy. "Ready?"

"Yes, S-" The boy stopped himself suddenly, but not soon enough to stop the swoop of sadness that fell over the man's face. "Yes."

"Do it, Bruce."

* * *

Peter didn't flinch once as Bruce pulled the implant from his arm.

Tony knew it hurt. He could tell because Bruce looked baffled at the kid's stony expression. But all Peter did was stare up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. The billionaire talked to him, but he was pretty sure the teenager didn't actually hear any of it.

"It's out."

There was a soft clang as the scientist dropped the implant onto one of the mobile medical tables and moved to stitch and bandage the incision. Tony didn't even spare it a second glance.

"You hear that, Peter?" He waved a hand over Peter's face. The kid's gaze trailed over to his face lazily. Tony's heart pounded. "You with me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I told you not to call me that. Remember?"

"No, Sir."

"Bruce?" The billionaire glanced at the scientist with panic in his eyes.

"The drug is probably messing with his short term memory. He'll become more coherent as the drugs fade, although he might not remember much from the past month."

 _Good. I hope he forgets it all._

Steve voiced the question Tony hadn't even though to ask. "What now?"

"I'll hook him up to some fluids to help flush out whatever's left in his system. Then, we wait."

 _We wait._

* * *

AN: If you think it's over, it's not.


	5. Act V

AN: Can I just say, right off the bat, that the reaction to my last Author's Note was actually the funniest thing I've ever seen? So many of you were afraid. I loved it. Reading your reviews made my entire life so much better.

Anyway: here's your update where you finally find out exactly what I meant by my ominous note…

(Just a quick warning: this chapter has minimal editing. I'm going to read through it in the next few days and correct any glaring errors, but I wanted to get it out there before I got too busy to post it. So, if you see anything too gnarly in it, please let me know!)

* * *

It was 1:00 am when Peter woke up and recognized Tony.

"Mis'er St'k?"

The billionaire was on him in an instant. He felt pure joy kindle in the void the kid's supposed death had left. "Peter?"

Blurry brown eyes were gazing up at him. "Wha' happened?"

"What do you remember?"

A little crease formed between the kid's eyebrows as he clawed through his muddled thoughts. "Pizza?"

 _Peter._

"Do you know where you are?"

The kid blinked around the room blearily. "Compound?"

 _He's here. He's with me. I've got him back._

"Good job, kiddo. What's your name?"

"T'ny Stark." Peter was _grinning._ It was a tired, barely coherent grin, but it was _beautiful_.

"Humor me, buddy. _Please._ "

Something in his tone must have made the kid realize the gravity of the situation, because he sobered instantly. "Peter Parker."

And then he lunged forward and vomited all over his lap.

Tony shoved the bedpan under his chin in time to catch the second bout. He used his free hand to slam the call button.

"Easy, buddy."

Peter gagged, and then looked up at Tony with teary eyes. His hand shot out to grip the billionaire's wrist. "I didn' want t' forget. Jus' wanted you. 'N May. 'M sorry."

 _He remembers._

"Hush, Peter." The kid was vomiting again. Tony could feel him shaking. "It's over. You don't need to apologize for anything."

Bruce came jogging in, took one look at the teenager, and started checking monitors. Worry creased his usually controlled features briefly before he suddenly slapped a hand against his forehead.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this." Bruce stared at Peter as he choked over the bedpan. "He's going through withdrawal."

Tony snapped his head up from where it was bowed to whisper reassurances to his kid. "From the drug?"

Bruce nodded, staring at the monitors with a pinched expression. "This isn't good. His body's become too dependent on it. We'll have to wean him off. We have enough of the drug from the implant to do it."

 _No._ "Are you insinuating that we have to give my kid the drug they used to fucking brainwash him? Bruce, he's just getting back to normal."

Peter whined, and burrowed his face into Tony's stomach. "I don' wan' it." The billionaire shoved the bedpan to the side and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

Bruce was shaking his head. "The withdrawal could kill him, Tony. We _have_ to do this."

Something broke inside the billionaire as he realized what he had to do.

"I just… give us a minute, will you?"

Bruce nodded as he replaced Peter's soiled blanket and turned to leave. "I'll go get everything ready."

Peter was done vomiting when Tony turned back to him, but his forehead was drenched in sweat and he couldn't seem to stop trembling.

"Peter-"

"No! Please!" The kid was _begging._ "Please, Mister Stark! P-please."

He caught Peter's chin between his thumb and pointer finger and looked in his eyes with as much sincerity that he could concoct. "Listen to me, alright? The withdrawal could kill you. We _have_ to do this."

"No!"

"Peter, _please_."

"Y-you don' know what it's like." The teenager was panting, his eyes darting around the room in panic. "T-to feel y'rself j-just… just g-get wiped a-away. I can't do that again."

"I know. Believe me, if there was another way, I'd take it. But you could die, Peter. Please, don't make me watch you die."

 _Not again._

A sniffle. Resignation swept across Peter's face. "Will you stay?"

"Absolutely." He let go of the kid's chin and brushed a hand over his sweaty forehead. "The only other person who'll be allowed in will be Bruce, until you can tell us otherwise, alright?"

"O-okay."

Tony swallowed painfully. He couldn't believe he was about to go through with this. "I'm gonna go talk with Bruce, but I'll be right back, okay?"

Peter just nodded. Tony couldn't stand the terror in his eyes.

Bruce was waiting for him just outside the MedBay doors. "Did he agree?"

"He did." Tony wanted to follow Peter's lead and vomit. The gravity of what he was about to do, of what he was about to let _Bruce_ do, was crushing him. "No one besides me or you is allowed to have access to his room until it's over. We clear?"

"Of course." Bruce set a tentative hand on Tony's arm. "We'll be monitoring him closely the whole time. Don't worry."

Tony shrugged it off, and sidestepped closer to the room. To _Peter._ "Yeah, well, it's not his physical health I'm worried about."

"I've analyzed the drug." The scientist dropped his voice despite the fact no one was around. "As long as my data is accurate, I don't think he'll remember much once it's in his system. It looks like it acts a lot like the anaesthetics dentists use for conscious sedation. He may recall snippets and impressions, but nothing too concrete. All you need to do is keep him from panicking when I first give it to him and be there when he starts to phase back in. The danger zone won't be until we're giving him doses that are large enough to affect him but small enough to not completely incapacitate his senses. And even then, all you need to focus on is keeping him calm. I'll work on finding a sedative that won't interact in case we need one."

"You do that." Tony took a shuddering breath, bracing a hand on Peter's doorframe. "Alright. I'm ready."

Peter looked even worse when they stepped back in. His breath was coming in harsh pants, and random spasms were shaking his body. Bruce gestured for Tony to move ahead of him, and the billionaire rushed to the kid's bedside.

"T'ny."

"Hush, buddy. It'll get better soon."

The kid's focus zeroed in on Bruce as he swabbed Peter's arm with an alcohol wipe. The formality nearly made Tony laugh.

 _Ah yes, don't forget to be sanitary when injecting illegal, untested drugs into my kid's body, Bruce._

Peter whined when the scientist picked up the needle. Tony tried to distract the panicking teen from the syringe in Bruce's hand. "Look at me, Peter." The kid did, and the billionaire could see his eyes begging for help. Begging for help that Tony couldn't give.

 _This is for his own good. I'm protecting him._

"Everything is going to be okay, Peter. I'll be right here the whole time. It's not going to be like before."

Tony had to smother the urge to flinch as Bruce slid the needle into Peter's arm and started slowly depressing the plunger. The kid's face paled in panic and he nearly tore the arm out of the scientist's grasp.

"No, Peter. Don't do that." Tony steadied the kid's arm and tried to push away the feeling of his gut twisting. Every millimeter that the plunger on the syringe moved made dread pool in his stomach. "It's alright."

 _It's not alright._

Tony felt a lump catch in his throat as Peter's pupils rapidly dilated. The kid's breath caught in his throat as the drug started to take effect. Tony could almost see the internal battle raging behind his eyes.

Bruce finished the injection quickly, and stepped away so that he could watch the plethora of monitors displaying the kid's vitals.

Peter's hands fumbled for Tony's shirt. "Don' le' me get lost."

"Never, kid." The billionaire caught Peter's groping fingers and moved his other hand to Peter's forehead. "Just look at me, Peter. Don't think about what's happening. Just look right at me." An idea occurred to the older man. "You told me you'd memorized pi to the 64th digit once. Wanna show me?"

"3.141592...65...35...9…"

The teenager trailed off, breathing slowing and fists unclenching. Tony held the kid's gaze as the drug took effect and his mouth fell slack. He didn't break the contact, not even when the sight of

Peter's awareness drifting away made Tony taste bile.

"You're doing great, buddy." The billionaire hoped the kid was too far gone to notice the way his voice shook. "I've got you."

He could _see_ the kid slip through his fingers. Everything that made Peter _Peter_ seemed to drain right out of him. He was running a hand through the teenager's hair, murmuring words that he knew were falling on deaf ears, watching his kid just… disappear. Peter wasn't there. He was somewhere far away. Somewhere Tony couldn't go.

Somewhere Tony couldn't protect him.

Tony's focus was so concentrated on Peter that he didn't even notice Bruce move back up beside him.

"How are we doing, Peter?"

Tony wanted to snap that _of course we aren't doing well, Bruce_ but swallowed the comment before it could surface. It wasn't fair to take his anger and fear out on the scientist. He was just trying to help.

Peter blinked slowly at Bruce, opening and closing his mouth a few times before answering. "Tired."

Bruce gave the teenager an indulgent smile before turning to Tony. "Once the drug settles into his system, he won't feel as sleepy. This is his last full dose. We'll give him three quarters in about twelve hours, and I'm anticipating a similar response. We'll start to see a change in his awareness when he's down to half. That's when we need to worry about confusion and distress. For now, just keep him quiet. You can remind him of simple things, like your name or his, but try not to upset him."

"So I'm just supposed to let him stare at the fucking ceiling without any clue of who he is for twelve hours?"

Bruce put a steadying hand on Tony's shoulder. "If that's what it takes, then _yes_. You need to calm down, Tony. Right now, Peter is _very_ susceptible to suggestions, including non-verbal ones. If he sees you panic, he's going to follow your lead."

Tony glanced over at the kid in question. He seemed completely unperturbed by the conversation going on just feet from him. His eyes were trained upward, blinking slowly, _mechanically,_ at the tiles on the ceiling.

The billionaire felt his heart clench. He'd never seen the kid go this long without talking before.

"Alright. Calm. I can be calm."

"He's going to be fine, Tony. So are you." Bruce moved to leave. "I'll be literally two rooms away. I'm going to work on synthesizing that sedative we talked about and continue analyzing the drug. I'll pop in to check on you two in about an hour, but I'll be monitoring his vitals continuously. Call if you need anything."

It took Tony a few minutes of purposefully controlled breathing to work up the courage to move back to Peter's side. He swallowed convulsively before speaking in a low voice.

"Hey there, buddy." He ran a gentle hand across Peter's forehead. "I know you're feeling pretty weird right now, and maybe a little scared, but everything's okay. I'm here. You just relax and let me handle it, alright?"

Peter didn't respond, but his gaze _did_ slide over and latch onto his mentor. Tony took that as a good sign, and kept talking soothingly.

"You're a really good kid, Peter. " Tony paused. There was such an absence of… _anything_ in Peter's eyes. "I missed you." He reconsidered the words before changing them, trying but failing to curb the rush of defeat in his voice. "I miss you right now, too. I wish you'd come back to me." The billionaire sighed. "It'll be alright, though. It'll be over soon."

 _Please let it be over soon._

* * *

The world was phasing in slowly, and the boy wasn't sure he liked it at all.

His muscles ached, and he could feel his teeth chattering as his body shook, but he wasn't cold. In fact, he was _hot._ Too hot.

The boy itched. Something was crawling under his skin and he had to get it _out._ He clawed at his arms, whining when a pair of hands closed around his wrists and stopped him.

"Ge' it out." He winced away from the bright lighting above him. Had it been there the whole time? Everything felt hazy. Confused. Like there were things he was supposed to know that were sitting just on the edge of his awareness but no matter how desperately he groped, he couldn't reach them. "P-please… ge' it out."

A voice. A good voice. That voice made him feel nice and warm and safe. "What are you talking about, Peter?"

The boy turned his head to the side and landed his gaze on a man. The owner of the voice. He wasn't a stranger. The boy knew that. Suddenly, the boy felt strangely possessive. Did the man belong to him? Or did the boy belong to the man? He couldn't remember, but the sentiment felt right.

"'S in me." The itch had morphed into a tingle that ran down his arms and up his spine. "Won't stop."

"Are you talking about the drug, Peter?" The man set a steading palm over the boy's forehead. "It's going away on its own. Try to relax."

The man didn't understand. The boy had to make him. If the man understood, the man would fix it. "N-no. Hurts. Make it stop."

The man flinched, and he looked sad. Like the boy's words had physically wounded him. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., call Bruce. Tell him Peter's in pain. What hurts, buddy?"

"E'rything."

A door opened somewhere out of Peter's sight, and another man came in. He spoke quietly to the safe man.

"Is he coming back?"

"A little." The boy's man was rubbing soothing circles on his temple. The boy hummed lightly in response. The physical contact felt good, as if it was something the boy had been starved of for far too long. "He says he's in pain."

"That'll be the withdrawal." The new man gave the boy a kind smile. "Hey there, bud. Can you tell me your name?"

His name? He had one, right? The boy felt his heart rate spike. His name. His name. His _name._ Why couldn't he remember his name?

"I-I-" The boy sat up suddenly, terror making his already aching muscles coil. "I don't- I can't-"

What's wrong with him? He felt distant and subdued, like the world was dancing at his fingertips but he was too weak to grasp it.

The boy glanced at his man in panic. He wanted him to fix it. "Help me. Stop it. Make it stop."

The man's voice was gentle. Coaxing. "What do I need to stop, Peter?"

The boy slammed an angry fist into the wall. He felt the plaster crumble. "I don't _know._ Wh-why don't I _know_?!"

The boy's man caught his hand and pressed it against his chest. "Quit that, Peter. Lie down."

The boy wanted to punch the wall again. He didn't want to stop. But the moment he heard the order, every ounce of fight drained out of him against his will. He crumpled onto the mattress, head bouncing a little as it made contact with the thin pillow.

"What the hell? Peter? Are you okay?"

The other man's voice filtered in. "Relax, Tony. Susceptible to suggestions, remember? He's just doing what you asked."

"Oh _god._ He did that because of _me_? He looked like I cut his fucking strings, Bruce."

"It's alright. Mistakes happen. We'll just have to be aware of that." The other man's next words were aimed at the boy. "I hear you're not feeling too hot, Peter. I'm going to put something in your IV to help, okay?"

 _Peter._ "My name is Peter."

The boy's man perked up at the statement. "That's right, buddy! Good job!"

The new man disconnect the fluid bag from the boy's arm and injected something into the port. "This is just some souped-up acetaminophen. It should help with the aches." The man injected a second syringe into the line. "And this is an anti-nausea med. It might make you a little sleepy, so don't sweat it if you need to take a nap. I'll leave you to rest with Tony now, okay? I'll be back in a bit."

The boy barely even noticed the other man leave, because he was too busy staring at _his_ man. At _Tony._

He was still trembling, although he could already feel the deep ache in his muscles fading. Whatever the last injection was had made warmth spread up his arm and through his body. It made him feel safe and floaty.

"You feeling okay, buddy?"

"T'ny."

A wide smile unfurled across Tony's face. "Look at you! That's two names."

"Why d' I feel f'nny?"

Tony's hand ran through the boy's hair, and he hummed with delight. Tony must do that a lot. The boy couldn't really remember, but the gesture felt familiar. "You're coming off some bad drugs, kiddo, but you'll feel better soon."

"C'n't think."

"That's normal, buddy. It's gonna get better real soon." The man shifted closer. "Why don't you take a nap, huh? You'll feel clearer when you wake up."

A nap _did_ seem like a good idea. The boy felt like he could just… drift. Tony was right there. He would bring him back if he got lost.

"Don' let go?"

"Don't let go of what, Peter? Of you?"

"Mhm."

"Of course not." Tony took the hand that wasn't playing the boy's hair and gripped his wrist. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

The boy knew he would be.

* * *

Four days into weaning Peter off the drug, Pepper got May from the safe house. Tony left Peter's bedside for the first time to greet her and explain the situation.

May was, pretty rightfully, _furious._

"You're telling me," she snarled, stalking towards Tony and making the usually suave billionaire stumble into the wall as he backed away from her, "that my baby was presumed _dead_ , and you _lied_ to me?"

"May-"

"I _trusted_ you! You told me he was safe and I believed you! I let you drag me away from my home, away from my work, away from my _kid_ because I _trusted_ you!"

"May!" Tony raised his hands in surrender. "I'm so, so sorry. I just…" He trailed off, the words getting caught in his throat. "I just couldn't… I couldn't face it. I couldn't face _you._ And it was wrong. I know that. I'm… I'm sorry."

Her face softened slightly. "I do know that you love him, Stark. Believe me, you wouldn't be anywhere _near_ him if I thought you didn't. So, for his sake, because he adores you, I'm not going to murder you where you stand. That doesn't mean I forgive you." She stabbed a finger into his chest, right where his arc reactor used to be. He suppressed a hiss of pain. "But if you _ever_ hide something like this from me again, you and I are going to have a _big_ problem. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Glad we're on the same page." May stepped back and surveyed Tony quietly. "You look like shit, Stark."

Tony leaned heavily against the wall, dropping his head back with a groan. "I feel like shit."

"Have you been with him this whole time?"

"Yes."

"How is he?"

Tony winced. "He's doing better. We're still having a hard time remembering who people are. He's recognizing me pretty consistently, and it's getting rarer for him to forget his own name, so that's good. It seems to be at its worst when he's just woken up or is tired, which Bruce says is pretty expected. Apparently, it could take up to a week for the drug to work completely out of his system after the last injection, so we could be looking at him staying pretty confused for a while yet. He's still getting dosed every twelve hours, too, so it's not surprising that he's struggling."

"I want to see him."

"Of course." The billionaire nodded towards a hallway. "He's right down here. I'm just giving you a warning, though: he got his most recent dose about two hours ago, so he's a bit…" How do you describe watching the kid you love just be _absent_ from his own body? "He's not really all there. And don't give him any direct orders. He doesn't…" Tony swallowed. "The drug takes away his free will."

Peter was staring at the wall when they slipped into his room. His eyes had taken on the glazed, docile quality that Tony had grown to expect from the kid in the few hours after a dose. May, however, faltered at the door and let out a little gasp.

The kid turned his head and blinked slowly at the pair. "Tony?"

"Hey, buddy." The billionaire strolled to his bedside and set a hand on the back of his neck. "I brought you a visitor."

He'd expected the kid to show _some_ recognition when he saw May. And, in his defense, he did. What he hadn't expected, however, was the woman to cause Peter to have a meltdown.

"No." Peter whimpered, turning his face into Tony's chest and digging his fingers into his mentor's jacket. "No! I _can't_."

"Peter?" May stepped forward, placing a tentative hand on the teenager's knee. "Baby? It's me. It's May."

Peter jerked away from May's touch like she'd burned him. "No!" The kid was sobbing now. "No! No! No!"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., call Bruce." Tony pulled Peter away from his chest and cupped his tear-soaked face in shaking hands. "Buddy? What's wrong? Can you use your words for me?"

"No!" Bruce rushed into the room as the kid shrieked. "I don't-I can't-I want… No!"

Tony looked up at his friend helplessly. "I really hope you got that sedative synthesized, Brucie."

The scientist held up a vial of clear liquid and rushed to administer it. May just stood by the doorway, frozen in shock.

Tony had to engage the watch gauntlet in order to hold the kid's arm still enough for Bruce to inject the anaesthetic. As soon as the vial was empty, Tony wrapped Peter's shaking body into his arms and shot the scientist as desperate look. " _Please_ tell me this'll work quick."

"He'll start feeling it any second now."

Sure enough, Peter's flailing eased almost immediately after Bruce spoke. Tony tangled his hand into the kid's hair and murmured reassurances over the teenager's rapidly quieting protests.

"You're alright. You're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you. Never again, Peter. Never again. Just go to sleep, kiddo. You're safe. You're safe. You're safe."

The kid's airtight grip on Tony's jacket went slack, and Bruce sighed, tilting a monitor towards him. "He's out."

Tony transferred the kid onto the bed, hands trembling as he smoothed out his hair and tucked the blanket around his shoulders. The moment he had satisfied the intense desire to _protect Peter_ that glowed in his stomach, he turned to Bruce with wide eyes. "What the _hell_ was that?"  
Bruce shook his head and wordlessly took Tony's elbow to guide him out of the room. May followed, eyes glimmering with the same protective fire that the billionaire could feel burning just behind his own gaze.

As soon as the door to Peter's room clicked shut, Bruce faced down the twin infernos with impressive poise. Still, Tony knew the man well enough to peer past his forcefully calm exterior and see he was just as shaken as the rest of them. "He's so confused, Tony. It's frustrating him." The scientist turned to May. "I think he saw you and realized that he knew you, but couldn't quite place why or how. It scared him."

There was a hint of bitterness in May's voice when she answered, gesturing in Tony's direction. "But he recognized _him_."

"He doesn't recognize me, either. And Tony's the one who's been sitting with him since the beginning. I'm not surprised he's retaining that one fact, especially since we've been repeating it over and over again. You have to remember: the drug isn't just designed to make him forget things. It's designed to make him trainable."

Both May and Tony flinched at the words.

"I know it sounds terrible, but we have to face the truth if we're going to help him." Bruce looked at May with sympathy in his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see him like that."

For a moment, May looked lost. Then, she straightened her shoulders and turned to Tony with nothing but steely determination on her face. "I need a room here."

"You have one."

"Thank you. Now get back in there, Stark. I'll expect updates multiple times a day."

The billionaire stared. "What?"

"That's my baby, Stark. I won't do _anything_ to hurt him. And if that means staying away, then that's exactly what I'm going to do." She searched his eyes for a moment, voice somehow softening and hardening simultaneously when she finally spoke. "That's what you do for your kid, Tony. You make hard decisions. You do things that hurt like hell because that's what they need. Do you understand?"

He did. He never thought he would, but he did. "Yes."

May gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Now, you call me the moment Doctor Banner thinks he's ready, okay? Not a second later."

It struck Tony rather suddenly that May was a better person than he could ever hope to be. "Of course. I'll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. send you hourly updates."

"You take care of our kid, Stark. Do you hear me? Make the hard decisions, and take care of our kid."

 _Our kid._ "Always."

* * *

AN: I tried to do a lot of research into drug withdrawal and tapering off medications/drugs for this, but it was difficult to find specific information on the timeframe of withdrawal. I also did a lot of research in the effects of scopolamine, fentanyl, and a series of other anaesthetics used in IV sedation. Basically, my Google history looks like I'm about to start a career as either an anesthesiologist or a drug dealer.

This chapter was initially A LOT angstier. And, I mean, it's still pretty angsty, but I changed it a teensie bit to make it a little less crushing after Infinity War. I couldn't help it. I need some fluff.


	6. Act VI

AN: I need a t-shirt that says: "I survived writing the final chapters of It Wasn't You." HOLY SHIT. These were beasts. They fought me every step of the way. Hopefully, they satisfy.

* * *

They had finally made it to the last dose.

"Hey there, Peter." Bruce always greeted the teenager with way more enthusiasm that Tony thought was appropriate, considering their situation. "Ready to get this over with?"

The kid blinked up at the scientist. "Huh?"

Tony muffled a sigh. "This is your last dose, buddy. Remember? We just talked about it."

"Did we?"

The billionaire clenched and unclenched his fist. "Don't sweat it, kid. Let's go, Brucie. I'm ready for this to be over."

Bruce emptied the syringe into Peter's IV port, and Tony moved to comfort the kid with practiced ease. Even at smaller doses, the drug made the kid feel lethargic and disconnected while it settled into his system. They'd had a few incidents where Peter had gone into a full blown meltdown since May's visit, especially right when Bruce administered the drug, and the episodes never got easier to handle.

It had been over a week since they'd gotten Peter back, and Tony felt like he'd spent nearly every waking minute since then as the sole pillar tethering the teenager to sanity.

"You know the drill, Peter." In all honesty, the kid probably _didn't_ know the drill. He seemed to forget everything, nowadays. "Talk to me. D'you think I oughta teach Dumm-E how to make coffee?"

Peter's eyes clung to Tony's face like a drowning man clings to a piece driftwood at sea. "Dunno. Doesn't he put, uh, motor oil in stuff?"

 _He remembers the motor oil smoothies. Good._ "Huh. True. Maybe it's not such a good idea."

The kid's eyelids drooped, and Tony smoothed a lock of hair away from his face as his expression twisted in childish frustration. "Hate this."

The billionaire had anticipated the reaction. Peter usually wavered in the edge of a tantrum as the drugs dragged him down. He didn't really blame him. Peter wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was _brilliant._ The kid could tell that he wasn't firing on all cylinders. Tony was a genius himself, and losing his ability to think was one of his worst nightmares. Hell, watching _Peter_ losing the ability to think might be even worse.

"I know you do, buddy. But you're almost done. This is the last time. Just rest."

The teenager _whined._ His hands scrabbled uselessly at his sheets as his feet kicked out blindly. "No, no, no, no, _no._ "

Tony locked his own frustration somewhere deep inside him and forced his voice to stay even and controlled despite the helplessness twisting in his gut. "Shh. Don't fight it, Peter."

" _No_."

"Yes, buddy. It's okay. I'm right here. You can check out for a bit. I'll take care of everything else."

Tony's entire being twisted with nausea at the pure _relief_ he felt when the drugs finally mellowed the fear in the teenager's eyes into glassy apathy.

Bruce triple checked the kid's vitals before assessing his pupil response and speaking to him gently. "Are you okay, Peter?"

"Feel a little sick." The words were slow, but unslurred. Tony took that as a win. "Kinda wanna sleep, too."

"I'll give you something for the nausea, and that'll help you with your nap." Bruce moved off to prep the meds, and Tony kneaded a hand against the kid's shoulder. His eyes drooped shut.

When Bruce took Peter's arm to inject the meds, the kid blinked awake hazily. "Oh. Hi Bruce."

The scientist gave the kid's arm a friendly pat as he screwed the syringe in place. "Hi Peter."

"Wha' is that?"

 _Everything's fine._ "You said you felt a little sick. Bruce is giving you something to help your stomach."

"Oh."

Bruce finished the injection, hooked Peter up to a bag of fluids, and disposed of the empty syringe. "Alright, Peter. I'll leave you to rest. You're staying, Tony?"

Like that was even a question. "Of course. I'll keep an eye on him." The billionaire tucked the teenager's sheet up to his chin. "Say goodnight, Peter."

"No."

 _You just said you wanted to sleep, Peter._ "You need to rest."

"No."

 _Do not give him a direct order. Do not give him a direct order. Do not give him a direct order._ "C'mon, buddy. Don't be stubborn. You know that the medicine Bruce gave you makes you sleepy."

"Medicine?"

Tony was not a naturally patient person, and the repetitive questioning was wearing on him, even though he _knew_ Peter couldn't help it.

 _Breathe. It's not his fault. Breathe._

"Yeah, kiddo. Bruce gave you something just a minute ago."

"Drugs?"

 _Yeah. Those too. I'm so sorry._ "Nope. Just medicine."

"Medicine for what?"

 _Patience is a virtue._ "For your nausea."

"But 'm not throwing up."

"That's because Bruce gave you medicine."

"Oh."

 _Please go to sleep, Peter. I need a break._

"'M tired."

 _Good._ "Sleep helps that, you know."

The kid hummed, curling onto his side to face his mentor with half-lidded eyes. "Hmm. T'ny?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"What's wrong wi' me?"

 _Shit._ "Nothing's wrong with you, buddy."

"Lying."

Tony suppressed a groan. He didn't want the kid to think he was irritated with him. That wasn't fair. "You got whammied by some bad guys, but we're getting you better. Actually, you can help. Wanna know how?"

"How?"

"You could try to get some sleep."

"Don't like sleeping."

Tony regarded Peter carefully for a moment. There was genuine distress in his eyes. He wasn't just being petulant out of frustration. "Why not?"

"Always go to sleep before they hurt me."

 _What?_ "What do you mean, Peter?"

"Made me sleep. Hurt me. You weren't there. Didn't like it."

The kid wasn't making any sense. Then again, that wasn't particularly abnormal. "No one is going to hurt you, Peter, and I'm right here. You're safe to sleep."

"Promise?"

 _With everything I have, buddy._ "Yeah, Peter. I promise."

A few moments passed. And then,

"T'ny? Why 'm I so tired?"

"Because Bruce gave you some medicine."

"Why?"

"Cause you said you felt sick."

"Oh."

 _It's going to get better. It's going to get better. It's going to get better._

* * *

When Peter woke up the next time, his eyes were brighter than Tony has seen them since…

Since _before_.

"Hey, kiddo."

Peter blinked a few times, and muffled a yawn against his sleeve. He looked a lot more like "I just woke up but I'm not really awake yet" Peter rather than "drugged into apathy" Peter. Hope, fragile but fierce, tangled in his veins.

"Hey." Another yawn. "What time is it?"

Tony checked his watch. "Night."

"Tha's not an answer."

"It's the answer you're getting."

 _You'll forget it soon, anyway._

Peter rolled his eyes and looked at his mentor through dark eyelashes. "Is Bruce coming soon?"

"Nah. It's just you and me until morning, buddy."

"That's nice." The kid stretched, sat up, and frowned at the IV. "I don't like the-"

All at once, Peter's mouth fell slack as his gaze drifted absently to Tony's left hand. His eyelids drooped and he swayed almost imperceptibly. Tony's heartrate spiked.

"Peter? Buddy? You with me?"

Nothing. The billionaire hit the call button and rushed to cup the kid's face in his palm. Even the physical contact didn't render any reaction from the teenager.

"Peter? Can you hear me?"

He wiped a string of drool away from the corner of Peter's mouth at the same moment Bruce slipped in.

The scientist took in the scene and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"You tell me." Tony was sure to keep his voice gentle and unpanicked, despite the adrenaline tearing through his entire body, on the off chance that Peter was at all aware of what was going on. "He's just… checking out."

Bruce moved to stand in front of the kid, making Tony reluctantly step away, and shone a penlight in his eyes. Peter blinked, but otherwise showed no reaction. "Peter?" He took the teenager's hand. "Squeeze my fingers if you can hear me."

Tony stared at Bruce with desperation bubbling in his chest. "Anything?"

The scientist shook his head. "No. I think that he might be-"

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the fit ended. The kid's head jerked, and his eyes snapped up to Bruce, then over to Tony. "Huh? Wh-where'm I?"

"Peter?" Tony couldn't help the way he lunged instantly for the teenager. Bruce put a hand against his chest and stalled his movements, much to the billionaire's annoyance. He shifted anxiously on the balls of his feet as he tried to catch the kid's attention. "Shit, Peter. You okay, buddy?"

"I don'-" the kid shook his head, blinking rapidly, "I don't… I-I can't…"

Tony could _feel_ the tantrum coming on. Damn it. He pushed past Bruce's hand and cupped Peter's cheek again, palm warm against the curve of the kid's jawline. "Hey there, kiddo." The teenager's eyes latched onto his mentor's face. "That's it. Take a deep breath for me, okay? Nothing's wrong. Bruce just wants to check you out. You good with that?"

Peter shook his head again, as if he could knock his thoughts back into place. "I-I don't remember him coming in."

"You mean he snuck up on you? That's not very nice, Brucie."

The scientist shot him a look before going to check the kid's vitals.

Peter continued his rambling, pressing his fingers into his temples and squeezing his eyes shut. "No. That's-that's not it. He just… I don't even know what I was-"

"No biggie, Pete. You don't need to know, cause I'm Tony Stark, which means that I know everything. I'll make up for anything you don't know. Sound good?"

"I-I guess."

Tony felt as if he'd spent a lifetime waiting for Peter's hero worship to fade, but now he found himself hoping that it could carry them back to shore.

 _Keep on trusting me for a little longer, kiddo, and I'll get you through this._

 _I promise._

* * *

Peter remembers May suddenly.

"Shit!" Tony nearly falls out of his chair as he whips to check on the kid at the expletive. "Tony, where's May?! Oh my god. Is she hurt? Why hasn't she been here?"

"Easy, buddy." The billionaire untangled the IV line from where it had twisted around the pole when Peter tried to lunge out of bed. "Stay still. F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Can you please let May know that Peter's asking for her?"

"Right away, Boss."

Tony put both hands on the teenager's shoulders, trying to ground him. "She _was_ here, Peter."

"Oh." The kid squinted in concentration before sighing in defeat. "I don't remember that."

"There's a lot of things you don't remember, but that's okay." Tony wiggled onto the bed beside Peter and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You didn't recognize her. Or, you did, but you couldn't figure out who she was. You had a little freak out, so May's been staying away until you were better."

"Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, voice quiet, "May Parker is requesting entry."

"Send her in."

May slid through the door nervously, eyes flitting around the room before finally settling on Peter.

The teenager gave her a weak smile. "Hi May."

She laughed, and there were tears in her voice. " _Peter_."

"That's me."

Tony stepped away quickly, and May flung herself at the kid. Peter wasted no time in burying his face into her neck, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing deeply.

"My _baby._ You didn't even know who I was. Oh, Peter. I looked in your eyes and you just weren't _there._ "

"It's okay, Aunt May. I'm here now."

Tony crept towards the door. He felt like a drifter, floating through a moment that didn't belong to him. Right as he reached the door, however, May's voice stopped him.

"Don't you dare go _anywhere,_ Stark. We need to have a talk. All three of us." May pulled away, wiping tears from her cheeks and cupping Peter's face. "Do you feel up to that, baby?"

The kid leaned into her touch. "Yeah."

Tony stood by the door awkwardly, hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulders hunched by his ears. May rolled her eyes and pointed at a chair. The billionaire sat in it gingerly, glancing uncertainty between her and the kid.

"If we're going to do this," May waved her hands towards Tony and Peter, "then we need to have an understanding."

"Do… what together?"

May looked at him like he was stupid. "If we're going to raise this kid together."

And, okay, that _definitely_ wasn't what he was expecting.

Peter blushed bright red. "Aunt _May_ -"

She shoved a hand over his mouth. The kid squealed with indignation but didn't move to dislodge her hold. "Now listen up, boys. I've been thinking about this a lot, the last few days." May met Tony's eyes with the intensity he had come to expect from seasoned businessmen and politicians. "Whether you like it or not, you've taken on a serious role in his life. And I've come to terms with that. But he's still my kid. And we need to communicate."

Tony nodded eagerly. "Of course. I completely understand."

She smiled at him, hand still firmly clamped over a cranky Peter's face. "That goes both ways, you know. You tell me what's up, and I'll do the same for you. Cooperation is key when it comes to co-parenting."

Her statement made a smile tug at Tony's lips. "Did you read that in a book?"

May glared. "Like I said, I've had a lot of time to think about it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. suggested some very interesting sources."

 _Of course she did._

Peter pushed his Aunt's hand away from his mouth with a confused tint to his features. "May? Why were you doing that?"

Tony had expected it, but May had not. The question caught her off kilter, and the billionaire rushed to answer before Peter could start to that suspect something wasn't right. "The grownups needed to talk without an obnoxious teenager butting in."

"Talk about what?"

May's entire expression was one of barely contained horror. Tony really couldn't blame her, but he also knew that Peter looked to the people around him for reassurance, and if he saw May panic, he would follow suit.

 _I should have briefed her first._

"Grownup stuff. Don't sweat it." He pointed at the kid's unruly mop of curls. "What you _should_ worry about is that mess on your head. I'm telling you, Peter, give me five minutes with a pair of clippers…"

The kid stuck out his tongue and laughed. Some of the tension left his shoulders, and Tony could feel he action mirrored in his own. "Leave me alone, Mister Stark. It's not like I-"

Peter's mouth slackened suddenly, tongue going dead. His eyes went glassy and trailed up to a far corner of the room, fixating on the spot without really seeing it.

"Peter?" May snapped her fingers in front of his face, voice wavering as she tried to curb her fear. "Peter, honey? Can you hear me?"

Tony winced. _Good timing, buddy._ "It's alright. Just… give him a minute."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Bruce says," Tony paused, swallowing hard, "he says they're a lot like absence seizures. It's a side effect of the drug withdrawal. He's okay. He'll come back to us in a bit."

As terrifying as they had been at first, these episodes had become just another part of their daily routine. Tony just waited until the kid came back and dealt with the aftermath. Sometimes, the kid retained what he was talking about and barely even recognizec that he'd been drooling on himself for the past minute or two. Most times, though, he ended up agitated and disoriented. Tony just talked to him soothingly until the kid chilled out.

Or until he forgot why he was so upset in the first place.

(In those cases, the trick was to wipe the tears off the teenager's face before he could register them again. There was nothing worse than realizing you had been crying but not being able to remember why.)

This episode was, thankfully, a short one. It only took Peter about a minute to blink in confusion and drag his eyes around the room until they settle on Tony.

Because, somehow, he had found himself acting as this damn kid's keystone recently.

As much as he wanted to begrudge it, he really couldn't.

Anything for Peter.

"I-I-I don't..." The kid's hands clenched and unclenched on his lap. "Where am I?"

Tony leapt into his usual soothing mantra. "You're alright. You're in the Avengers Compound. Your Aunt is sitting right next to you. Her name is May. You remember May, right? And I'm here, too. My name is Tony. Your name is Peter. You like your sandwiches squished down really flat and you think that I should put a feature wall in the lab because you watch too much HGTV when you're bored."

The bewilderment on the kid's face made Tony want to scream. He was so, _so_ tired of this. He couldn't even imagine how Peter felt.

"I-I don't remember what I was saying."

"Eh, that's fine. Happens to the best of us. I've already forgotten, too." It was a lie. A loving lie, but a lie all the same. He's been lying to the kid a lot, recently. It made him feel a little sick. "It wasn't important if you've already forgotten it."

Peter's hands started to shake, another symptom of the withdrawal, and Tony decided that enough was enough.

"Okay! Nap time."

The kid looks up at him with glassy eyes. "What?"

Damn. The kid had been having such a good day, too. Bruce had warned him that the withdrawal could come in waves, but it didn't really make the process any easier to watch. "You're going to take a nap. May and I are going to step outside and have a chat."

Thankfully, May followed his lead. She gave Peter's temple a quick kiss before standing. "I think Tony's right, Peter. You look beat. We'll come right back in, okay?"

Peter could tell he was being manipulated, but he was still too jumbled to deduce exactly how. "Okay…"

Tony pushed the kid onto the mattress as he walked to the door. "You better be out like a light when I come back in here, Underoos."

"I can't sleep on command, Mister Stark."

The words were like a punch to the gut. _Eyes, downcast and submissive. Collapsing against a mattress because Tony fucked up. Because Tony told him to. The way Tony's entire being had screamed when the kid called him Sir._ "Well, give it a shot. Seriously, sleep will do you good."

"All I do is sleep."

"Because you're recovering. Sleeping is important for that kind of stuff."

"Sure."

"I'll be right back."

"Mhm."

The door shut behind them and both Tony and May slumped against the wall simultaneously.

"You've…" May's voice shook as she dropped her face into her hands. "You've been dealing with that this whole time?"

"It comes and goes."

" _Jesus._ "

"It's gonna pass, May. He's already so much better than before. We're only two days out of his last dose. Bruce said he could still be a little off for a week. He's doing really well, considering."

She sucked in a tight breath. "Our poor baby. He must be so confused."

"It's… not been easy." He let out a humorless laugh. "It sort of feels like keeping him calm has become my full time job."

She finally pulled her face from her hands and gave Tony's shoulder a gentle bump with her own. "You're good with him."

He felt a lump settle in his throat. "Thank you."

May smiled. There was something knowing about her gaze. "It's a weird feeling, isn't it?"

 _To love. To adore. To cherish._

"Yeah. It is."

"But it isn't bad."

"No." He paused, thoughts spinning around soft brown curls and eyes bursting with promise. Everything that the kid was before. Everything that he will be again. "No, it's not."

* * *

AN: Did this chapter feel repetitive and frustrating? Man, I hope so! I was thinking about how exhausting it would be to be in Tony's situation. Even though none of this is Peter's fault, the continuous forgetfulness and tantrums would be insanely draining. And Tony's not a naturally patient soul, bless him, so he's literally holding himself together through sheer force of will and love for Peter. What a good dad.

I based Peter's "phase-outs" off of absence seizures, although I hyped them up for drama (because FICTION). I had a few while I was recovering from my grand mal seizure back in 2015, and I based some of it off of that experience. However, a lot of the symptoms were hyped up or changed. I'm taking artistic liberties because it's my made up drug so I can do what I want *cue sunglasses*


	7. Act VII

AN: This is it, guys! Thanks for sticking with it, especially through all the awful cliffhangers and unapologetic author's notes. You guys are the real MVPs.

WARNINGS: mentions of drug withdrawal, nightmares

* * *

Tony and May started taking Peter shifts.

And as much as Tony's pride hated to admit it, it was so fucking relieving to finally get a break.

He spent most of his time off dozing on the couch in the MedBay's common room. Even though he had nothing but confidence in both May and Bruce's abilities to look after the kid, the thought of being too far from him still made the billionaire's entire being hum with uncertainty.

The last time he had been out of reach, the kid had suffered. He could never let that happen again.

And when he wasn't getting a few hours of sorely needed shuteye, he was pacing the halls.

You see, Tony Stark had never been one for stagnancy. He'd always preferred movement. Patching, fixing, _doing_. His life was lived in permanent state of chaotic action. But Peter's sudden return, and subsequent recovery, had jerked his entire world to a tenuous stop. His axis was halted, his ocean tides forcibly settled into a static pond.

He'd barely even noticed the restlessness building up inside him until he'd had a moment to breathe. But with peace came the aftershocks, and his entire being _screamed_ to lurch back into motion. Kinetic energy crackled in his joints. He could only sit still for a few minutes before his jittery muscles pushed him back to his feet.

Sometimes, his path would be random and impulsive. Other times, he'd follow a specific pattern until he wondered if the carpet might become imprinted with the path. Always, however, he ended up circling past the kid's room again and again and again.

Peter did patrol as Spider-Man. As it turned out, Tony took up one of his own.

It was during one of these loops that he stumbled across Natasha.

She was leaning against the wall by Peter's door. Somehow, her demeanor was a tenuous balance between alert and at ease. Her posture was loose, but her angles were also reminiscent of a thinly veiled threat. Tony had always marveled at her ability to live through the language of contradictions.

He cleared his throat to catch her attention, then let his carefully constructed arrogance take over. "Can I help you, or were you just hoping to visit your arachnid cousin? I hate to be the one to break your heart, but he's not really taking visitors right now."

She rolled her eyes, pressing a casual hip against the wall and meeting Tony's stare head on. For once, there wasn't even the tiniest hint of a challenge in her gaze. That was all he needed to know that she saw straight through his façade and felt the ripples of concern and distress underneath. "I'm here about our guest."

It took Tony less than a second to figure out exactly what guest she meant. _Shit_. He'd forgotten all about him. "I sure hope he's a dead guest."

There was a lethal glint to Natasha's smile. For the briefest moment, her perfectly balanced scale tipped away from relaxed and closer to danger. _Like teetering on the edge of a knife._

"Not quite." She shifted, running a nail down the inside of her thumb. "Although, I wouldn't have any qualms about changing that."

"Neither would I." The words sputtered in the air, low on fuel and conviction, as Tony's anger was overcome by something stronger. The billionaire swallowed hard and tossed a glance back towards Peter's room.

 _For the kid. For Peter._

He took a breath. "Send him to the Raft. I'm sure Rhodey can pull some strings."

The ex-assassin only looked vaguely surprised, as if she'd seen what his decision would be before he'd even made it. Then again, knowing Natasha, Tony wouldn't discount it as a possibility.

"You sure?"

He pictured Peter's soft brown eyes, clear of drugs and pain and confusion. He thought of the kid's endless optimism, his blind faith in the purity of humanity. _I guess I just think that everybody deserves a second chance. Don't you, Mister Stark?_

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Alright."

As she walked away, Tony wondered at what point a sixteen-year-old kid from Queens had started inspiring him to be a better person.

* * *

A day later, May went back to work. Tony had told her she didn't need to worry about it, that he and Pepper would handle everything, but Peter had encouraged her a little too enthusiastically when she brought it up.

Tony lurked silently in the corner while May fussed over the teenager still curled up among a plethora of monitors and displays. It took her a full ten minutes to say her goodbyes, and she still lingered at the doorway for a good few seconds longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as they were alone, Peter slumped back and looked at Tony sheepishly.

"You, uh," the kid's gaze dropped down to where his hands were fiddling nervously with the plain white hospital sheets, "you don't have to stay with me, y'know. I'm sure I'll be fine on my own if you wanna… you know… go do something else."

Tony rolled his eyes and pushed away from the wall. He made his way over to the bed and gave the kid's shoulder a gentle shove. Peter instantly scooted over to give the older man room to sit. As soon as Tony settled, the teenager was tucking himself up against his side in an unconscious plea for comfort.

He briefly wondered if there was an exact moment when personal space became a thing of the past with the kid, or if the transition had been gradual.

"Can't get rid of me that easily, squirt. I'm here for good."

Peter sunk into his side in relief, even as his words contradicted the motion. "Are you sure? You really don't have to babysit me any more than you already have."

"Who says I don't just enjoy keeping my favorite Spider-kid company, huh?" He ruffled a hand through the teenager's curls. "Now, are we going to talk about that?"

"Talk about what?"

He had to bite back a snort. "Why you were so eager to get rid of May." He paused. "And why you seemed to eager to get rid of me, too, for that matter."

Peter's stammering damned him before the actual meaning of his words could even sink in. "I-uh-I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?"

Whatever tone it was that Tony used must have worked, because the teenager collapsed in on himself, resistance melting away into a puddle at his feet. The defeat and frustration rolled off of him in almost audible waves without the defensiveness to tame it. "It's not a big deal."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Tony could see the kid testing out how his next words felt in his mouth. They came slowly, like each syllable carried an invisible but unbearable weight. "I'm having a hard time… uh, processing, I guess."

Tony was quiet for a moment. "Processing memories?"

This time, the sentences snowballed. It was like once he pushed himself over the start, he could only pick up speed. "And new stuff. I keep forgetting things. Things that I _know_ I should know. And sometimes it feels like my emotions just… stop working? I don't know how to explain it. I know that I zone out, too. One second I'm talking and the next the clock says ten minutes have passed but I don't remember them and you both look terrified."

It was Tony who hit the brakes, redirecting the kid before his thoughts could run out of control. "What does this have to do with May?"

Peter shrugged, and the movement made his bony shoulder tap against his mentor's collarbone. "I know I'm upsetting her, and I can't stand it." The kid ran a tired hand over his face. "If I'm being honest, I'm having a… a hard time being around anyone, right now. I know that everyone just wants me back to normal, and _I_ want to be back to normal, but I can't get there. I can see normal, but I can't touch it. It's… it's really frustrating, actually."

As much as he wanted to rush to reassure the teenager, Tony made himself gather his thoughts before answering. "Of course we want you back to normal, kiddo. But if you're not there yet, then that's okay too. This isn't your fault. And I'm sorry if I'm making you feel rushed or uncomfortable. Just say the word and I'm out of here, bud. F.R.I.D.A.Y. can monitor your vitals if you want to be alone."

"You, uh," Peter flushed bright red, "you don't really bother me."

And, okay. That statement definitely warranted more than a few seconds to process. "Do you know why?"

"No. Not really. I mean, I maybe kinda do? I have a theory, at least."

"And that is?"

"I don't remember much from… from _before,_ " _from when he was their puppet,_ "but I remember a little, especially after I, uh, broke out of their control. I think I sort of… latched onto you? You make me feel safe, I guess."

 _You make me feel safe._ Present tense. As in, currently happening. As in, right at the damn moment. As in, not impermanent.

And because Tony Stark's eloquence knew no bounds when confronted with emotional input, and because the last few weeks, _months,_ had been the most draining of his life, he just stared at the kid.

"Oh."

Peter, bless him, took his mentor's silence as displeasure rather than the shocked fondness that it really was. "I'm sorry. Does that, uh, make you uncomfortable?"

As it turned out, the kid's sudden uncertainty was the jolt that the billionaire needed to _say something, damn it_. "No. No. That's… that's not it." Tony scrubbed a harsh hand over his face. "I just," _Stark men are made of iron. Stark men do not cry,_ "well, you're just a really good kid, Pete."

Recognition flared in Peter's eyes. He could hear the undercurrent of emotions, the declaration hidden underneath the compliment's surface.

"Thank you, Mister Stark."

And for once, somebody thanked Tony Stark and he didn't doubt that they meant it.

* * *

It took another three days for Peter's withdrawal symptoms to stop.

Bruce pulled him aside that morning, shutting the soundproofed door to the kid's room softly and giving Tony a delicate smile.

"I think we're safe to take out his IV and pull the other meds." For the first time since all of this began, Tony noticed how weary the scientist looked. It occurred to the billionaire that he wasn't the only one who had been forced to be up with the kid nearly every hour of the day. "The withdrawal should be over. His blood tests still show some traces of the drug, but it shouldn't be enough to cause any real problems. What he needs now is rest."

"He's _been_ resting."

"And how good has that rest been? Most of it has been because of a mix of analgesics and sedatives. You don't achieve REM from that kind of sleep. I seriously doubt that he's gone through even a single full sleep cycle since before he was taken. What he needs now is good, healthy, natural sleep. If he can rest through tonight, I'll let him move into his room tomorrow."

"So he's ready to go home?" Something flipped in Tony's stomach as he voice the question.

Bruce shook his head, and it was the sweetest thing the billionaire had ever seen. "I'm not sure I feel comfortable letting him be too far from the MedBay until his blood tests start coming back completely clear. But I don't see why he can't get back to some semblance of normal until then."

Tony told May the good news when she came to switch off with him a few hours later. By then, Bruce had already taken out the IV and removed the monitors from the room. The space felt a lot less cramped, and a lot less like a hospital, and Tony could tell that it had done wonders for Peter's mood. His entire demeanor was much more relaxed, and he kept flexing the elbow where the IV had been with the ghost of a smile on his face.

May stayed for the better part of the day before heading out to work her nightshift. Tony had grabbed a few hours of restless sleep right after she'd gotten settled in Peter's room, but May had ended up dragging him back in after she caught him lurking by the doorway around lunchtime. The kid had been shamelessly pleased by the presence of both his aunt and his mentor, chattering at them excitedly and grinning from ear to ear.

Strangely enough, the makeshift family started to inch closer and closer together as the day wore on. Tony still wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but by mid-afternoon all three of them were unfurled across the tiny hospital bed, Family Feud reruns playing nonstop in the background. May was tucked up at the head of the mattress, legs hanging off the side and Peter's feet resting against her thighs. Tony was near the end, scrunched in a surprisingly comfortable position with the aforementioned teenager's head pushed against his stomach.

It was so domestic that Tony of five years ago would have probably thrown up.

May slipped out a couple of hours before sunset, leaving Tony with the task of entertaining the rapidly tiring kid until Bruce's imposed bedtime. The scientist had stressed that keeping Peter awake until after dark was important to put him back on a healthy sleep schedule. And, while Tony wholeheartedly agreed, keeping an exhausted Peter awake that long was proving to be a fulltime job.

"Just one more hour, buddy." He encouraged, rubbing the kid's arm lightly to get his attention. "That's not even a full Star Wars movie."

Peter muffled a yawn against his sleeve. "Yeah."

The poor kid looked spent, hair tangled and eyes heavy with fatigue. Tony kept expecting him to get cranky, but he honestly just looked pathetic.

"I'm sorry, Pete. I'd let you sleep now if I could."

"I know, Mister Stark." He gave him a tired smile. "It's fine. Just another hour, right? That's not too long."

Tony imagined that that hour passed a lot quicker for him than for Peter.

The clock ticked over and the man could practically feel the teenager slump in relief. He wasted no time in switching off the TV and gently extricating himself from the kid's hold. "Alright, bud. Bedtime for you, huh?"

Peter crawled under his blankets with a content sigh, then flailed a hand out towards his mentor. "Stay?"

He settled into the chair by the bed without even the tiniest flicker of hesitation, catching Peter's hand and giving it a little squeeze. "'Course, kiddo. I'll be right here if you need me, okay?"

The teenager gave a hum in response, eyes shut and face smooth, and Tony sent out a blasphemous prayer that he'd sleep the night through.

And, like with most things Tony prays for, he doesn't get his wish.

(It's going to get better, but that doesn't mean it gets better all at once.)

* * *

Peter woke up, and he couldn't remember who he was.

Every thought blurred behind his eyes and morphed into putty. He reached and grasped but his memories squished in his fists and refused to reform. He was falling, he was sinking, he was _drowning_ in the lack of anything.

 _I don't know who I am._

There were no landmarks, no handholds. Nothing to remember, nothing to seek.

 _I don't know who I am, and I don't know if I'll ever know again._

"Kid?"

 _Kid. Kid, Kid. A handhold. The voice gave me a handhold. I am kid. Am I kid? Kid. Kid. Kid._

Strong arms wrapped around Peter's trembling form. _Hold. Hold. Hold. I am being held._ "It's alright, buddy. You're safe."

 _Buddy. Kid. Nicknames. There was only one person who called him those things. Who was it? Whowasitwhowasitwhowasit?_

"Shh. Take a breath, kiddie. You've gotta take a breath."

The name lurched into his mind with undeniable certainty, like it had never left at all. Like it had been sitting just underneath his skin all along.

 _Tony. It's Tony. Tony knows who I am, right? Tony can tell me. Tony won't let me stay lost._

"I-I don't know who I am." Peter clung to his mentor, eyes squeezed shut. "Bring me back. Bring me back. I don't know- I don't- I don't- oh my _god._ I don't _know._ "

"Yes you do." Tony was rocking him, hand tangled in his hair with a fierceness that made his head spin. "Tell me your name."

Panic caught in his throat. "I don't _know_."

"Yes, you do. You _do._ Tell me your name."

His name. His name. He knew his name. Didn't he? He'd been thinking it. He'd been thinking his name. "My-my name is Peter."

"That's it, buddy. See? You know who you are. You're alright." Tony pulled back, only to press their foreheads together. "The drug isn't in your system anymore, kid. It's out. You're okay."

The world jerked. He wanted to scream. "But I still can't _remember_."

"Yes, you can. You just think you can't. Tell me about yourself, Peter. Tell me who you are."

"I _can't_."

"You can." A calloused thumb swiped across his forehead. "You _can_. Just try, buddy. For me, okay?"

 _For Tony._ He could do anything for Tony.

"My name is-is Peter. I'm from, uh, I'm from Queens?" He looked at his mentor questioningly, and the man gave him a reassuring nod. "I-I'm Spider-Man."

"That's it. Keep going."

"I _can't_." Peter's voice cracked on the scream. He could barely think past the defeat and terror and fear. "I don't _know_!"

"Then _I'll_ do it." Tony gripped the back of the teenager's neck and curled his fist until his fingernails scraped against the nape. "Your name is Peter. You're from Queens. You're Spider-Man. You put pineapple on your pizza, which is an abomination, but I let you do it because I also think it's a little endearing. When you set the temperature on a thermostat, you go by counts of five. Your favorite Disney movie is Robin Hood. You pick blue notebooks for your math homework and red ones for your English. You stutter and ramble when you're nervous. Sometimes, when you have a nightmare, you come into my lab and sit at the bench with me until you fall asleep in my lap. Do you remember all of that, Peter?"

Tony's words filled the air, and Peter felt like he inhaled them with every breath. They settled in his lungs, seeped into his bloodstream. A promise, a comfort, a truth.

 _I am Peter._

"Yes."

"See?" Tony brushed a thumb down Peter's cheekbone. It was an intimacy that they had discovered only recently, but the sensation felt like coming home. "You aren't lost, Peter. You're right here."

 _You're right here._

His next words came out painfully young. "They took me away."

"I know. I'm sorry, buddy. I should've fought harder."

 _No. You don't understand._ "No. Not… not like that. Well, _yes_ like that, but also… they took _me_ away from _me_. They took _you_ away from me. You and Ned and May and _me_. They took it all away. I wasn't _anything_. I… I was a _puppet._ "

Peter didn't miss the way Tony's breath stuttered in his lungs, or the way a visceral sadness seemed to settle in his mentor's eyes right before he tugged him into his chest, resting a chin delicately on the crown on his head. "But you're not anymore, kiddie. You're here with me, and you're all you."

 _You're all you._

He buried his face into his mentor's collarbone. He breathed in the man's cologne and the lingering scents of motor oil and metal. He remembered these things. He remembered who he was. He is kid. He is Spider-Man. He is Peter.

"Do you remember what you said to me before…" Tony trailed off, voice tensing, "uh, when they were filming you?"

 _Before they made you think I was dead._

"Yes."

"Oh. Good." The older man's hand was tracing patterns along his upper back. Peter could feel his fingers trembling. "You… you said you loved me. And I, well," a breath shook its way between them, and the atmosphere stilled in anticipation, "I love you too, kiddo. I, uh, I reckon you oughta get a chance to hear that. I told you when you were… when we first got you back but you were… pretty out of it, so I don't think you remember." Warm air from one of Tony's exhales ruffled the teenager's hair. "But… yeah. I love you a lot. So fucking much, kid."

Peter smiled. For the first time in a long time, he felt contentment rest in his bones. "I love you, too. Although I guess I already said it, huh?"

"Yeah, but I don't mind hearing it again."

"Well, okay," he let his eyes slip shut, "I love you."

"Alright, buddy," there was laughter in Tony's voice. Something dark and unseen had fled the room, and both of them were reveling its absence, "don't wear it out. We've got tons of time to be mushy and gross about it."

 _Time. I have tons of time._

 _Heaps and heaps and heaps._

* * *

They grab Peter right out from under Tony's nose, but he gets him back.

He gets him back, and he always will.


End file.
